


courage, little one

by gothwyfe



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Child Neglect, Coming of Age, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Gen, Getting Together, Hinata Shouyou-centric, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Introspection, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Discovery, enby kenma rights, op is devastated and this is their masterpiece aka projecting x 10, teen angst and bullshit, they kiss be patient, you get therapy! you get therapy! you all get therapy!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-14 22:56:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 32,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28678515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gothwyfe/pseuds/gothwyfe
Summary: so, you think you can fly. show us.-or; a Hinata Shouyou character study.(completed)
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio
Comments: 31
Kudos: 88





	1. beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And in our childhood, we do not know. We only see.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw implied child abuse and neglect. nothing graphic

_ Step back. Lean on your right foot. Are you ready? _

-

June 21st. Year 2000. 

A screaming child opens his willfully innocent, ignorant, brown eyes to the harsh brightness of the hospital lights. For a second, Aimi Hinata- still wincing and groaning, childbirth  _ no  _ simple thing- swore she saw baby Shouyou take in everything around him, bringing blissful silence to his screams for a second. 

Just a second. 

But enough for Aimi to take her screaming baby, already sprouting a tuft of bright orange hair, in her arms and tearfully swear at the doctors that he would be a star. 

They’d smiled at her, with the ugly placating grin she’d seen when she told her parents that she’d make it on her own, when she’d entered Nagoya Community College and promised she’d be rich and famous one day, when she’d told Shouyou’s father Takashi that she trusted him. Most terrible of grins. 

But she looked down at baby Shouyou’s pudgy white face- and she  _ knew _ . 

-

There is little you know when you are three.

There is his mom. There is sometimes his father. There is never food. 

What else is there to it? 

Mama thinks Shouyou is a gifted baby. He starts walking a month early and starts running almost immediately with it. They buy a baby leash ( _ ‘they’  _ being his mother and father in a rare good spell-) because they can never keep track of him.

All the doctors say that doesn’t matter in the end if he doesn’t get enough to eat. ‘It’ll stunt his growth,’ they say. ‘He’ll have health complications for a lifetime, Aimi-san,’. Mama always watches with a pinched face, until Shouyou starts complaining, and the doctor gives him a bright cherry red lollipop and sends them on their way with a warning looking at mama. 

There was one time- when mama came into his little room with little toys with red-rimmed eyes, a purpling bruise and held him for the whole night. Even though she was trying to get Shouyou to sleep in his own room, by then, she doesn’t let go and sobs into his tiny shoulder that she really is trying, that she never meant to get pregnant so young but she loves him with all she is and she’s trying. 

He is small and does not understand.

He wakes up, and mama is already at work. He wakes up, and he is hungry. 

-

Five is a pleasant age to be. 

What do we know,  _ really  _ know, before the world filters its opinions and reasons through our developing young minds? What do we know before our elders think we are old enough to agree yet too young to disagree? What do we know before the dirt encompasses us and we become another unhappy middle-aged being, sore from sitting a boring 9-5, ready to return to an unfulfilling yet  _ ‘good enough’ _ marriage? 

You know what you see. 

Hinata Shouyou is five and he rolls in the mud and tracks dirt across the tiny hut of a place they call home. He is five and he knows that he sees all the other kids scream as they push each other in the lake, and he is five and knows that vegetables taste bad and his mama is mean for not letting him have the last bit of chocolate before bed. 

He knows this- and more. 

He knows that Father and mama don’t get along- and that Father doesn’t really like him all that much either. He knows that Ito at the park laughs at him because he has holes in his shoes and only one thread-bare jacket, and he knows that Nakamura-sensei, his teacher, secretly pays for him to get lunch on the days mama doesn’t have enough. He knows that there are people like him, and people like Takeru, who everyone likes more because even though he can burp the alphabet, Takeru has the new Nintendo and that’s  _ so  _ much cooler. 

He knows Takeru isn’t allowed to talk to him, because Father and mama aren’t married. He knows Ito’s parents cast him concerned glances when he shows up in the same pants as yesterday, splattered with mud because mama came home really late and couldn’t wash them. 

But when you are five, it doesn’t matter. Simple problems have simple solutions. 

He goes to Saito’s house when Father is home. He gives Nakamura-sensei a really,  _ really  _ big hug when he leaves kindergarten, and he thinks he feels her tear up. Ito makes fun of his clothes, so he makes fun of her short hair and stupid face, and they push each other really high on the swings. He plays with Takeru anyways, because they both don’t care, and his Nintendo  _ is  _ really cool. He jumps in the river with his muddy clothes and goes to class sopping wet and everyone laughs and he gets to wear someone else’s clothes for the day. He smiles, big and wide, summoning the sun with him to blind all those near.

Pleasant. Simple.

-

He goes to Nagoya Elementary school, and his favorite subject is gym class. 

It’s a dirty place- bathrooms cracked and broken, textbooks old, filled with obscene drawings and smelling of must and sweat- but the gym. 

She’s gorgeous.

Long, glimmering hardwood, squeaky even when your feet are dry, blinding you with the reflections of lights in its premium stage- yeah. She’s gorgeous.

Apparently, it was a donation from one of the men who’d made it out of this hell town. 

Shouyou doesn’t care, not really. Gym is the place he can absolutely shine, just like mama told him he would when it rained too hard and the thunder was loud and the ceiling leaked, and he’d run to her room to hide. Japanese is confusing, math takes too long, and history is unbearable- but when he enters the room and the stench of sweaty six-year-olds and air salonpas fills his lungs, he feels like he is home. It’s super fun- that’s the word. Fun.

Shouyou runs faster than every other six year old. He jumps higher, and he throws farther, and he can do cartwheels and flips like Ito who’s in gymnastics. People think that he’s  _ cool _ . 

If he could, he’d never leave the track. Running around and around and around is a relief, it’s therapy- it’s release. Like he never has to ever think about anything again. 

He’s free. 

-

When he is seven, Kugisaki-sensei makes a home visit. Apparently, he needs to do this thing called homework, and bring it back the next day. 

He opens the door when she knocks, leading her in to sit on the ratty couch and bringing her a glass of water like mama taught him to do when guests are over. He explains that he doesn’t get homework, and when she offers to have him stay for extra lessons, he explains that  _ ‘No, I don’t understand why we have homework at all, because I already did it in school.’  _

Kugisaki-sensei laughs, holding the glass between her hands. “Repetition is key, Shouyou. Just because you did it in school doesn’t mean you will remember it at home. Practice, diligence, hard work- they all start now, when you are just a kid.” She ruffles his hair, and he huffs that he is  _ not  _ a kid. He’s seven whole years old, and he’s allowed to buy popsicles by himself, and he’s totally super cool and old.

Kugisaki-sensei narrows her eyes, looking around the dusty room. “Where’s your mom, Shouyou?” 

“She won’t be back until later,” he answers earnestly. “She took the day early, but she just called to say something got caught up at work.” 

The older woman nods with understanding. “Your father?” 

Shouyou shrugs. He feels her eyes fix on him with concern, but he ignores it. His father comes and goes. It’s better to just accept it than wonder why, or where he is. They sit in awkward silence for a few minutes, before she wonders aloud if Shouyou would want to start his homework now, and he goes toddling up the cracked staircase to bring his backpack. Turns out subtracting those big numbers is a lot easier if you take your time. 

He does his homework sometimes, now, after Sensei informs his mother he will fail out of his year if he doesn’t do at least some. But why should he? No one stops him if he doesn’t- and it’s boring and stupid and dumb. 

Sometimes, sometimes though- he will turn on his little lamp when it’s dark, and Sensei’s words will reverberate through his head.  _ Practice, diligence, hard work-  _ he doesn’t even know what that means. Those words are just as dumb and stupid as this piece of paper asking him what 44 minus 19 is. He will go through the process slowly, carrying the one and counting down from 14. So dumb and stupid.

-

“Betcha can’t make it up that wall.” 

Shouyou sticks his tongue out, making a face at Saito. Stupid Saito. Of course, he can. He just watched Spider-man do it, and Shouyou can do anything.

It’s easy to clamber up the trash can beside the store, standing on the flat part right beside the flap. But after that- maybe Saito was a  _ little  _ right. He totally could do it if he had powers like Spider-man, so it’s pretty unfair that he was expected to. 

The roof is kinda far up. Just kinda- but Shouyou’s no wimp, he’s no wuss, and he’s gonna make it. If he does this without superpowers he’s basically a superhero now.

He leans back, measuring how far from the edge of the trash can he is. Enough so.

He takes another step back, just a bit so he can get farther because he can make this jump, because he’s gotta-

And his foot slips right off like butter on bread, taking him down to the ground in a heap of limbs. He hisses as his arm catches on a large box beside it. 

Saito comes clambering next to him, his concerned face making its way into Shouyou’s vision- which is pretty hazy right now, that’s not good- 

“Shou-chan! Are you okay?” His voice comes out more like a whimper, and Shouyou hisses again as a particularly strong breeze hits his wrist. 

“Here, let me help ya,” Saito says, gingerly placing a hand on his arm to help him up, and Shouyou feels his entire body turn itself inside out. Ow, ow,  _ ouch _ , that hurts  _ so  _ bad.

When his vision makes it's way back to him, Saito is sporting large tears, falling straight down his face. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he sobs. “I killed Shouyou!” 

“Huh?” Comes his intelligent response. 

“Oh-” Saito whirls around, a relieved expression melting onto his red face. “You’re alive! We gotta, I don’t know, take you to a doctor? Should I call your dad?” 

Hinata reels back. “No. Don’t- It’s okay.” It’s probably fine. His arm hurts a lot, but it’s probably okay. More okay than calling his dad to come clean up this mess.

“It’s not!” Saito comes sobbing, again. “What if it’s broken and it’s gonna fall off your body and then you only have one arm!” 

“I’ll just put it back, I have glue,” Shouyou says. More like his mama has glue- a tiny tube of something she calls  _ Super Glue _ \- if it’s so super it will probably work. Unlike Spider-man who didn’t even come save him.

“So it  _ is  _ gonna fall off?” Saito sniffles. 

Shouyou bites on his lip as he struggles to stand. “If it falls off, I totally get your bike. And I’ll be super cool with only one arm.”

Saito snorts wetly, snot definitely fell out of his nose,  _ ewwww _ , and scrambles away as Shouyou cackles, chasing him (still holding his wrist to his chest). 

  
  


-

Two days later, he is taken to the hospital, after his wrist has swollen past recognition, resembling a rotting grapefruit. The doctor looks at them with annoying disapproval, tutting to his Father as to why they came in so later. The silent answer is that Shouyou hid his arm until he could no longer bear it. Father says he hadn’t been home.

Father looks downright murderous, as he’d come home for the first time in a week to the sight of a house in ruins- mama hadn’t been home in a day either, and Shouyou’s arm was much more of a useless rubber noodle. 

He gets a bright green cast, and his father pulls him aside. 

“Next time,” he bites, eyes glinting and breath sour with last night’s alcohol. “Next time, I  _ will  _ break the other one as well. Never again.” 

Father cries the next day when Shouyou doesn’t say good night. He says he is sorry for losing his temper. That he’ll never do it again. Shouyou says it’s okay, but he backs away from his father’s trembling form so quick he hits his wrist again on the side of the staircase. Everyone at school signs his cast, and Saito still looks sorry until Shouyou takes his meat buns. 

-

Natsu is born in the spring, coming into the world with the April cherry blossoms. His mother swears she is the same gift as he was, and where he will shine she shall as well. _ ‘Babies that are born under the blossoms are good luck, Shouyou’.  _

She’s kind of annoying. 

He was really excited to have a baby around, first, a real-life baby that would make funny noises and follow him around. Takeru would totally think he’s super, super cool now. You can’t have babies with the Nintendo. 

Father and mama get along some more, now. One time, Father even took him to the store, and let him buy this big plastic toy truck that had flames on the side, and laughed as he ran right into Kobayashi’s house to show her  _ just  _ how cool. Shouyou even held his hand as they crossed the street. He’s the one who took Shouyou to see baby Natsu-

Yes. The baby’s name is Natsu, and she’s really loud and kind of a crybaby. Ito would totally make fun of her. Ito thinks all crybabies are lame. 

He informs mama of this, hoping that at least she will tell the baby it’s time to stop. Two weeks is far too long for this behavior. He hasn’t cried since like, three whole weeks ago, when he skinned his knee trying out Saito’s bike! So baby Natsu can’t be doing it so often. It’s unbecoming. Mama just laughs and tells him to hold out his arms. 

She places the swaddled orange head in his arms, as he sits on the stinky, ratty couch in their small living room. 

“Do you see, Shouyou?” Which is a silly, silly question to ask. Of course, he does- he has eyes. “This is your baby sister.  _ Yours _ . You have to take care of her, no matter what, because you are eight and she is just a baby. She will always be with you, even when everyone else is gone.” 

At this, Shouyou looks up in alarm. “Gone?” He whines. “I don’t want everyone else being gone! You’ll always be here, right mama? Right?” He can’t imagine a world without Takeru’s stupid baseball bat they swing around, or Ito’s sneering face as she does the monkey bars faster than him, or Saito’s shiny new red bicycle. 

Mama laughs again, breathy and soft. “Not always Shouyou. For a long time, yes. But not always.” 

He feels his eyes well up. He doesn’t want mama to ever leave! Not like Father, who had just stormed out last night like he always does, after another loud screaming match. She could never do that. 

“No, baby,” Mama coos, wiping at his eyes. “Here- feel her heartbeat.” She presses baby Natsu up a little closer to his face, right against his cheek. Natsu’s skin is soft, her tiny breaths coming out against his ear. 

_ Ba-thump.  _

_ Ba-thump. _

Mama must catch the recognition in his wide eyes because she leans closer and wraps the both of them in a tight hug. “That’s her heartbeat, Shouyou. She’s so fragile and tiny- but you’re big and strong. That’s why you gotta always take care of her, so she can also take care of you.” 

The words ring in his ears, and he gently pulls the swaddled baby from his face, holding her neck up just as mama showed him.  _ ‘Your baby sister,’ _ ricochets around his brain like a bullet in a chamber, clanging against every little crevice. 

_ Your  _ baby sister. 

Natsu stirs, and without even opening an eye starts wailing, thrashing around in Shouyou’s arms. Mama tuts, immediately scooping her up to check her diaper, then pulling away with a pulled expression.

The warmth of the baby stings against Shouyou’s arms, like her absence has somehow intensified it. 

He feels his heart glow. 

-

He used to lie. 

Silly little things, really. 

He’d snipe candies from the corner store, stare down at the shopkeeper's shiny shoes and swear up and down he had nothing under his shirt. When he broke the gear on Saito’s then-new (but now, the novelty’s worn off) bike, he promised him it wasn’t because he tried it in the grass when he wasn’t supposed to, but because a bird flew through it and he had to stop super quick. He’d tell his mom it wasn’t him who ate the last cookie out of the jar, wiping away the last crumbs with the back of his hand as her too-bright smile seemed to cut him. 

He doesn’t know when it starts-  _ that’s  _ a lie. He knows exactly when he bit the inside of his cheek and told his third-grade teacher that the reason the side of his face is bruised and turning yellow is because he ran into a door, and not because his father Takashi drank a little too much.

To tell a lie is to craft a beautiful world, really. There is a feeling so sacred, a feeling so beautiful about having something you want to protect so bad you’d kill yourself a little for it. 

So Hinata Shouyou, all of nine years, skinned knees, and bright eyes leaves a trail of lies behind him, hissing like serpents when someone comes too close. 

It’s not a problem. 

It’s not!

Even though he misses school a lot, to watch baby Natsu who blabbers the day away, his teachers call him a pleasure to have in class. He has all his friends who love to play tag with him because he’s always the fastest. He has the frogs at the pond who jump into his waiting hands and his mama who always kisses him goodnight. You can’t have problems when it’s all so good. 

One day, when his father Takashi is mad again and has left again, he sits on the stinky, ratty couch next to mama quietly. It’s a new thing, for the two of them- they are never really quiet. 

“Mama,” he whispers. “Do you love Father?” 

He feels his mama still next to him, and exhales loud and long, before pulling him into her lap and holding him back by the shoulders, to look her in the eye- rimmed red with hour-long tears. “Why do you ask that, Shouyou?” 

He shrugs. He doesn’t know. 

Mama quirks an eyebrow and sighs heavily. “I do.” She finally answers. 

“Why?” 

Mama breathes out a laugh. “Shouyou, baby,” she whispers. “There’s never been a reason for love. If someone asked me why I loved you, the only answer I’d have is that you’re you.” 

Shouyou doesn’t really understand all that. Of course, he’s him. Who else could he possibly be? There’s a reason he loves his things- he loves to run because it’s fun, and he loves food because it tastes good and there’s never enough. 

“He’s mean, mama,” Shouyou whispers softly. 

She stops, inhaling sharply, and kisses the top of his head- gentle and soft. “Let’s go to sleep, baby. Any more questions?” 

Shouyou nods his head ‘no’, then stops- imperceptibly, and he untangles himself from his mother’s limbs. “One more.” 

“Fine.”

“What’s love?” 

Mama looks stunned for the tenth time that night. She chuckles. “You just asked me if I love, and you didn’t know what it was?” 

Shouyou nods. 

She blinks, then turns away, carefully, standing up and taking his hand as they head up to the beds. 

She tucks him in, soft, caring, and presses another kiss to his cheek. Just as she swings the rotting door shut, she stops, and Shouyou looks at the glimmer of light between his wall and door with one wide eye. 

“Love is a lie,” She whispers. “And a beautiful truth.”

-

The truth. 

The truth. 

What is that? What can we define as ‘the truth’? Of our world and its terrors, of its beauties- who is true? 

There only Is, as far as Shouyou knows. There Is good and bad, there Is strong and weak. No truth to it. 

He asks Kobayashi when she splays out in the mud next to him after they are worn out from trying to climb up the slippery green slide of the rusty old playground. The night sky blankets their small faces, a smattering of stars peeking from behind a large, fluffy cloud. It’s a little chilly out, and it’s late, but Takashi is home today and he is angry, and Kobayashi’s parents are never home anyway. He may sleep out here today. 

“Koba,” he starts. “What do you think the truth is?” 

Kobayashi wrinkles her nose, turning to look at him. “What the heck, Shouyou.” She pans. “That makes like,  _ no  _ sense.” 

Shouyou blows out a raspberry. “Whaaat. Yes, it does!” 

“No, it doesn’t.” 

Shouyou rolls his eyes and throws a pebble. “Whatever,” he pouts. “You just don’t know.” 

“I do!” She protests, sitting up on her elbows. Kobayashi just turned 10, hitting double digits before everyone else in their class, so she thinks she knows everything and tries to make them all call her ‘Senpai’. 

She bites her cheek, scrunching her eyes up and waving her feet behind her. “ _ Okayyyy _ ,” she drawls. “The truth is like… a thing.” 

Shouyou snorts. “Now who makes no sense?” 

“Shut up!” She waves her tiny fist at him. “You asked me, and I’m  _ way  _ better at Japanese than you.” She sticks out her tongue, and Shouyou blows another raspberry. She’s not wrong. 

“It’s like... a thing where you gotta not lie.” She finally finishes, looking proud. 

Shouyou groans, pulling himself up to sit on his butt. “My mama said that the truth is love. Or that love is the truth. I don’t know.” 

Kobayashi squints. “I don’t get it. They’re two different things, though.” 

Shouyou shrugs. “I don’t know,” he repeats, feeling small under the vast expense of the sky. 

Kobayashi juts her lip out. “Sometimes your mama is weird, Shou.” 

Shouyou grabs a tuft of grass, throwing it at her. “She is  _ not _ !” 

Kobayashi squeals with delight, hopping to her feet to run off, leaving Shouyou to chase after her, childish giggles ringing through the field. 

-

Childhood, my friend- it is a rambling, uncontainable thing. He plays, he hungers, he sleeps, he cries- he is happy, he is sad- though he doesn’t quite understand that yet. He understands very little, but he knows very much. 

It is easy for us to sit here, wondering what in the world Aimi Hinata thought when she brought a child she couldn’t truly care for to fruition. To wonder what makes Takashi lose his temper so quickly, that he’d throw the bottle of beer he cannot breathe without, slamming his fist into the nearest surface- breathing or still. To wonder why Nakamoto-sensei never informed an authority, to wonder where Kobayashi’s parents had been, to wonder why Saito never asked about what kind of bird had flown into his bike, to wonder what God above had arranged the events  _ just  _ so, so to leave a child confused and heartbroken. 

It is easy for us, to define truth, to speak on love- what is good, what is bad. 

But we- we have our childhood, within us, always. And in our childhood, we do not know. We only see. 

Shouyou sees the good days, when Takashi holds Aimi to his chest and dances to the tune of the recorder Shouyou has, squeaky and inconsistent. When he finally learns how to divide, even before Kobayashi who is better at Japanese than him. When Aimi who is still young and free, even with two children and a lifetime of debt, rolls down the tumbling hills of Nagoya parks and grabs Shouyou who is just a kid, spinning him around. 

He sees that he doesn’t need to care because he has people who do that for him. Care for the home, care for Natsu, care for him, and care for themselves. But he chooses to. He sees, and he chooses. 

_ Ah _ , the fresh freedom of childhood. We see we breathe, we care. But we play. 

-

Shouyou is 10 and hasn’t been to school in two days. He spends more days home from school, tottering around with Natsu in his arms, learning to use the rice cooker well enough to make dinner when mama has to stay  _ even  _ later at work now. 

It’s okay. It is what it is- he tells himself. The truth. He ignores the burning in his stomach when Kobayashi knocks on the door and asks why he couldn’t come to Saito’s playdate yesterday, because he got a kite and they used it. He ignores the flaming in his cheeks when the rice comes out burnt, day after day, and Natsu’s cries when the milk bottle is too hot. He ignores the sting in his eyes when Kugisaki-sensei fixes him with disappointment and pity when he comes into school after a week-long absence- with none of his homework done. Now everyone knows how to divide three digits (everyone but  _ him _ ). 

Takashi has not been home in 3 months. 

Shouyou learns the truth of hate.

-

_ Are you ready? _

_ - _

The house in Miyagi is nice. 

The stairs are not cracked and caving in, and it’s really small, but it’s new. It’s nice. 

Natsu- four now, and unstoppable- goes barreling right into her ‘ _ own room now, Shou-chan, look!’  _ and he sets down the two suitcases with a huff. 

Saying goodbye to everyone back in Nagoya hurt, it did- but a lot less than he thought it would. It’s like a weight has been lifted off his chest, a weight of waiting for Takashi to return, or for the tax collectors to come pounding down their door, or for the school to call and inform them that Shouyou was out. 

The hardest part was really the philosophy of it, no? Was this… running away?

He’d spent a lot of time running, these past few years. Through the woods behind the school, through the city a few miles away, anywhere and anyplace he could.  _ “Freakish stamina,” _ the older women would gather and say when he passed them on his fourth time around. The dull ache in his ankles, the sharp pains at his sides, the way he could just barely get enough air in: it was intoxicating. Everything about it. But never away- he’d always be back home by the end of it, huffing his way back up those rickety floorboards. 

Miyagi is new. Miyagi is nice. 

He’s never been a city kid- his town before small and secluded- but something about the fresh countryside and large mountains are enticing, far more than any open field or ink-black midnight sky. The sky is different here- a little less suffocating. He doesn’t know why. 

Mama leans back, hands on her hips, and lets out a loud sigh. “No neighbors, Shou.” She says with a smile. “You can make all the ruckus you want.” 

Shouyou cracks a smile. “In a bit. I’m kinda tired, gonna head up-” 

“Wait.” Mama waves him over, placing an arm around his shoulders. She points down the road, climbing down past what he can see. 

“All of that?” she says. “It’s all ours, now, baby.” Her gaze softens, and she smiles wetly. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be enough before. The world bit us, right? And mama couldn’t bite back.” 

“But you know- we are Hinatas- my name. And it doesn’t matter if there ain’t anymore- even if it’s just us three, we are keeping this family name going. We are gonna look at this mountain, we are gonna look at Nagoya, and we are gonna love it, and remember it, but this is our home. And we ain’t fuckin’ settling. It’s a change we need, and I’m gonna make it one you love. Okay? You got your mama’s promise on that.” 

Hinata bites his lip, blush rising heavy on his cheeks. So much for looking cool, now- he’s positive his face is lit up in every dorky way possible. 

Still, he nods his head, and for a second, it’s like the bitter resent of the past two years is gone. Every scream of frustration he let out when Natsu wouldn’t sleep, every silent tear when mama was at the hospital working two nights, three, four- every time someone looked at him and dismissed him for the Bastard child he was- it’s gone. 

-

Two months later, Shouyou turns twelve and receives a shiny red bike for a present, Natsu and a few kids he met at the park crowded around him as he blows out the candles on his lemon cake. They play party games and dance to American music and watch half of three different movies. Natsu calls him old and cries when she can’t blow out the candles- mama gets drunk and also cries that they grow up too fast. 

It’s the best birthday he’s ever had. 

-

His stomach doesn’t growl anymore- he works at a Mom’s friend’s store, and the Miyagi general hospital pays far better for fewer hours than wherever mom was before. They have enough to eat, and Shouyou has shoes that fit. 

But he craves something else- something that would make him burn and feel alive, like the bite of his fractured wrist or the sting of his father’s anger. Something that could light a match under him and make him  _ furious _ .

Life is better now. Miyagi is nice. 

-

But Shouyou feels the aching in his bones like an old dog. His mind is ten places at once, and he needs  _ something _ ,  _ desperately _ , because there are days he cannot breathe without needing to scream. He doesn’t know why, because it’s  _ nice  _ here, it’s  _ enough _ ,  _ finally- _

He tries to promise himself little things. If he eats this extra cake, he won’t die, and he will feel better. If he asks mom to come home early so he can hang out with friends, the world won’t collapse, and he will feel better. It’s all okay because he is happy and his friends are happy and Natsu is happy and mama is happy. 

It’s all okay. And if he runs up and down the mountain every morning so that he can finally breathe- well, it’s just another reminder it’s fine, right? He knows illness, he knows anger and bitterness and resentment, and those people who are consumed by it aren’t happy. 

So he runs a bit more. Yukigaoka is a nice school, with proper chairs and hand soap- he’s okay with it being a bit far. The bike was a good present, the hour-long commute slashed to just a half. 

A week later, he finds his fire, and he learns that he doesn’t need to run anymore.

He will fly. 

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hngh im losing my mind.
> 
> anyways plan is for this bitch to be long as fuck. i already have ch2 written and that slut is soo full LMAO.   
> this chapter was basically laying the groundwork for the type of person hinata is. determined, hard-working, so loud and bright but so quiet and cold at the same time. how is that so? that's what I'm trying to explore, I guess. i have a lot of feelings as you can see. feel free to start a fight with me


	2. craving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> you look up; growing pains, friendships, hunger. you're a teenager.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for some accidental self harm. skip from "his knuckles go white" to "the younger stops dead..."

_Look at the sight ahead. Is it clear? Do you know what you want?_

-

The Yukigaoka boys volleyball team; consisting of three first years, one basketball player, one soccer player, and a boy with determination stronger than the iron fist. They play a total of one game- two sets. It barely lasts longer than half an hour.

Shouyou passes congrats to them anyway. Reminds them to work harder next time. He’s a senpai now- it’s weird to imagine, worse to live out. Just last year he’d moved to this school, licking the wounds of Nagoya and barely a fifth-grade education behind him. 

But these kids look up to him, and _god_ if they can’t win this game, then he can at _least_ make sure they win the next ones. He can show them how to jump as high as he does, run after balls they know they can’t hit back, pick themselves up and dust themselves off. If that’s all he can do then it’s all he will. 

It’s only when he watches them get into Aki-kun’s mom’s car, and Izumin and Kouji go to get snacks from the vending machine, that he lets the salty tears out of their prison. It _stings-_ a bottomless ache that fills his stomach like the cough medicine he has to take in particularly harsh winters. He supposes this is a new brand of loss- not like when Ito’s cat died, or when Takashi never came back, or when he knew he’d never go to sixth grade. One that’s on him. 

And that’s the truth, that his mother couldn’t define for him all those years ago, isn’t it? It’s on him. He’s the captain, he’s the oldest, he’s the volleyball player. This is why they lost- because he couldn’t find it in him to be better. 

So yeah. It stings. 

He thinks back to what that guy- the ‘King of the Court’, apparently,- had said to him. _“What have you been doing for the past three years?”_

It’s not like he’s wrong- he’d spent the past year in a half trance. Spending nights awake, in a strange house and a different town where _everything_ is different, having mom home a bit more but still not enough, never enough, schoolwork piling up and up when he could barely concentrate past the roaring in his ears-

And the other half? Playing volleyball. Alone. 

Man. It’s like he can’t get far enough. Even with all this, he’s still behind.

Izumin and Kouji come up behind him, laughing to themselves about something, it all falls dead to Shouyou’s ears- but ahead of him, he sees that familiar blue jacket traipsing through. He has to say something, _anything-_

“I’m gonna beat you,” he shouts, not just to this _King,_ but to the heavens above, to everyone on this goddamn earth that can hear him. If it’s the last thing he will do, he will be known. 

That boy with black hair and dark blue eyes stares him down, and Shouyou can’t hear what he says past the roar of his mind, but their eyes meet and he knows. Next time they meet, it shall be on the court. And Shouyou will be better.

-

Shouyou just barely blinks before he’s grown an inch and acquired a bruise on every part of his body. The girl’s team does not mess around. By all he is, he is grateful to them. 

He spends countless nights up, nursing Natsu, and trying to pass his English class. By day, he runs and lifts and lifts and runs. Shouyou lives and breathes volleyball. He skips math to practice in the gym, shovels down his lunch in mere minutes to continue spiking drills with whichever poor soul he can convince to help him out, _“Just for a few minutes?”_

A slow fire had spread through his heart as he planted his first sorry foot onto the mountains of Miyagi, just a year ago. Almost like liquid, it had wormed its way through every vein in his body, and finally, it was bursting from every pore. This is what he was meant for, always. All that time wasted away, the dark circles under his eyes and the bruising on his legs- it was all for this. Volleyball ignites a passion within Shouyou he’s never felt before. 

Somehow, it translates to other parts of his life. He’s always been able to make friends, but people _gravitate_ towards him now. He asks Kouji- why now?- and he replies with a sheepish scratch of his neck. 

“You’re a little different now, Shouchan.” he muttered, eyes downcast yet dancing. “Everything about you is a little brighter.” 

He takes one break day a week- just a few hours of fucking around with the ball, but no conditioning. Mama is a nurse and she tells him that it’s important for rest, and if there’s one person he listens to it’s her. 

And on these days he will go out with some friends, exploring the bottomless adventures of Miyagi. Sometimes they will scrape together a small bonfire and party, complaining about the new chem teacher and laying out their deepest hopes and dreams. On those days, Shouyou truly does feel like he can fly, surrounded by people he can call his friends- people that _care_ about him. 

High school embraces him in the blink of an eye.

The first day is like an Adderall trip. He can’t keep still, boundless energy filling him from his toes to the tips of his hair. It’s disgusting really, he’s so excited but nervous sweat drips off his forehead- that’s kinda gross, all the new senpais are going to be so freaked out- 

He enters Karasuno high school, and barely waits out the last few minutes of class before he is sprinting to the gym, head high and hopes higher, slamming open the gym door-

-

Mur·phy's Law

/ˌmərfēz ˈlô/

noun

  1. a supposed law of nature, expressed in various humorous popular sayings, to the effect that anything that can go wrong will go wrong.



-

Kageyama Tobio is the second person Shouyou hates. 

He can’t help but be afraid of the taller boy, with his frown that probably makes children cry, and his stupid intimidating stare that’s like, _super_ creepy, you know? And he’s fucking _weird-_ all blunt promises and bitten anger. 

But the principal’s shiny head blinds him, and soon they are _literally_ kicked out on their sorry asses, and Kageyama reveals himself to be an

Utter. Dumbass. 

“Hey,” Kageyama growls. “ _You’re_ just as stupid as me. We’re both fucking out here.”

Shouyou wrinkles his nose. Such a crass boy. 

“Whatever,” he replies. “It doesn’t matter because we have to get back in there. I’m playing volleyball with or without you.” 

“Huh?” Kageyama’s glower deepens. “You can’t even hit a ball back over the goddamn net, idiot. You wouldn’t be good at volleyball even if you grew ten inches by tomorrow and grew wings.” 

Hinata feels his entire body heat up. Who the fuck _is_ this guy, anyway? He’s the king, but that’s a load of bullshit by now because his ass is out here in the dirt with him. “You’re a real fun guy, y’know-” he starts, but Daichi’s sharp voice cuts through. 

Right. He needs to work with this fun guy. 

Hinata leans back against the cool concrete. He knows how to make friends. If he needs to shove aside every emotion telling him to spike Kageyama’s head off his shoulders to play volleyball- the only thing besides like, his _mom_ or Natsu, he’s ever cared about this much- then so be it. He can do that. 

“So Kageyama-kun,” he ignores Kageyama’s grunt of irritation. “What’s your favorite color?” 

-

He works closing shifts at Suzuki-san’s store three times a week. She is close friends with his mom, so she has no problem letting him drop and move his shifts randomly to go around volleyball. It’s not like he does much in the store besides cleaning and manning the register- Suzuki-san’s daughter is more than capable of doing that.

If it were up to him, he wouldn’t be here at all. He’d much rather tell Kageyama he _could_ stay late today, try out a jump serve even if it always hits him in the face, try and hit any kind of ball. But lately, the bills have piled up and he’s not the kind of person that would ever outright _refuse_ to help out. He only grumbles about it for like, a few days. 

He chews a piece of gum, absorbed completely in this week’s edition of JUMP!, feet crossed up on the register’s table. “Welcome,” he says offhandedly. It’s weird to have anyone coming in at this time. But whatever. He hopes they don’t want help because this is the good part. 

“Uh, Hinata?” Daichi’s voice says. 

Shouyou drops his magazine. “Oh. Uh…” he scratches the back of his neck as Sugawara-san laughs behind Daichi. “Hey!” This is awkward. 

“I didn’t know you worked here!” Daichi booms. “This is Michimiya’s mother’s store.” 

“Wow,” Shouyou replies, feeling thoroughly uncomfortable. “Small world.” 

“I’ll say!” 

They stare at each other. It’s kinda weird to see the third years outside of club practice- he is just barely getting along with Yamaguchi. 

“How long you been working here?” Suga-san leans in conspiratorially. “Give me everything in this store for free and I won’t kick you out of the club.” He whispers.

“Suga!” Daichi pulls Suga back by his collar, casting him an _‘I’m sorry’_. Hinata feels his heartbeat in his throat. He laughs anyway. 

Suga laughs good-naturedly. “Just kidding!” he says, flapping his hand. “It really is strange to run into you here, though! We usually stop by Sakonishita’s.” 

“Mhmm,” Shouyou nods. He is petrified. These are his upperclassmen and he looks like a total loser, working at some corner store instead of at practice, or off somewhere else being cool. He should act cooler. He leans back on the counter like nothing’s bothering him, and trips on his untied shoelace. 

Daichi slaps him on the shoulder. Ouch. “Loosen up, Hinata! What are you so nervous about?” 

“Probably because you’re here,” Sugawara bites. Daichi’s grin turns forced. 

“I am going to kick you.” 

Suga laughs again- Shouyou feels his bladder leap up to his titties at Daichi’s glare, how is he doing that- and leans back on the counter. “Soo,” he drawls. “Two orange popsicles please!” 

“Yes!” Finally. 

He rings them up, Daichi telling him he doesn’t have to give them an employee discount, Suga’s just kidding, and the two decide to sit in the store to finish their treats. God help him. 

He’s never been able to talk to older people normally. Anyone that’s older, more powerful like that- it scares the shit out of him. Especially authorities and Daichi is the biggest authority he’s ever met, even at 17. He thinks his knees are shaking. 

“Say, Hinata,” Suga says. “You’re in class-1, right?” 

“Yes!” 

Suga looks at Daichi, smiling softly. “Well,” it suddenly goes sour. “I heard Abe-kun is in your class.” 

Shouyou blinks. “I mean, yeah.” 

It’s terrifying how quickly Suga-san can switch up. His hands clench, and he outright _growls_ . What. “That little monster is such a pain,” he says. “I tutor him and god, what a _brat_.” 

Shouyou’s cackle rips from his throat. “Oh my god, right?” He pulls his chair a little closer to the end of the register. 

“I don’t like to talk bad about underclassmen,” Daichi announces, ignore Suga’s sigh of frustration. 

“But I’ve met that kid and I wouldn’t mind if he got hit by a bus.” 

Shouyou snorts, and Suga looks at him in disbelief. Their popsicles are melting. 

They only leave an hour later, when closing time is finally upon them. Shouyou waves a cheery goodbye. 

-

From: Kenma

_u rlly trust your setter guy sm? to spike with your eyes closed lol_

Hinata blinks at the message, raking it over again. 

...Trust? 

Hinata wouldn’t trust Kageyama to hold his lunch for him, much less in something as important as _volleyball_. He only spikes with his eyes closed because it works. No other reason. He huffs.

To Kenma: 

_Bwahhhh, trust him? Ur so funny Kenma. I just do it that way because i cant the other way. But we’re gonna crush u!!! :DDDD :))))))_

The other teams always gawk when they catch sight of Hinata’s eyes closed when he spikes and he never quite gets why. The ball will always get there, and the ball will always be there- so if he closes his eyes, there’s really no difference. 

From Kenma: 

_he’s the one who gets the ball to u tho lol. so when u close ur eyes u trust he never gna miss_

Hinata blinks again. 

They have a point. 

Does he really rely on Stupidyama so much? Thats… 

To Kenma: 

_Trying to psych me out, Kenma?!!!!??? I wont lose to u :DD >:((((( _

-

They lose the Spring Inter-high.

-

Yachi and Shouyou become quick friends after he drags her to yell at her mother in the middle of a crowded subway station. 

She mouths silent words at him in the doorway of his class, right before the bell is meant to ring, and Shouyou squints, trying to make sense of them. 

_‘You’ll never believe what I saw!_ ’ She enunciates. 

_‘My penis is bigger than squash?’_ Hinata mouths back. His teacher looks up and shakes her head. Good grief. 

The bell rings, and Yachi flounces into the classroom. “Hinata!” she gasps. “I think I’m going to be murdered.” 

He grabs her wrist, and his eyes widen comically. “No! You can’t be killed, we don’t have another manager.” 

Yachi rolls her eyes. “Hilarious. But I’m serious this time. On god.” 

Kageyama’s chair squeaks when he pulls up next to them. “Hello, Yachi-san,” he says, deadpan.

“Hi, Kageyama-kun.” She sighs. “You’re my only real friend.” She informs him. Kageyama takes this information in stride. 

"Okay." 

“ _Yachiii_ ,” Shouyou says, arms coming out to splay across his desk. “You think someone’s going to kill you every other day.” 

“It’s only fair of me to expect that Kiyoko-san’s fans would come for my neck.” She huffs. “But this time I have proof.” She pulls out her phone and scrolls up before slamming a grainy picture in Shouyou’s face. She waves it around, and Kageyama grabs it to squint. 

“This is a boy.” he deadpans. 

“Correct!” Yachi’s finger waves. “But what boy?” 

“I don’t know.” 

Yachi’s hands raise. “Guys! This is,” she drops her voice to a whisper. “A criminal.” 

Shouyou giggles. “You think a criminal is stalking you?” 

Yachi’s face turns bright red. “Don’t make fun of me! He was walking behind me all day! And he wears his uniform wrong and was vaping in English. ” 

Shouyou’s brow furrows, and he grabs the phone again, to zoom in a little closer. “Wait,” he says. “This is Abe. Abe from class 1-5.” 

Her eyebrows bounce up to her hairline. “A smart delinquent!” She gasps. “That means he’s going to snipe me, probably. No evidence.” Yachi is already crawling to sit under her desk. 

“Yachi!” Shouyou laughs. “He has a crush on you! He told me yesterday.” 

Yachi peeks out from under the chair. “What.” 

Kageyama takes a noisy sip of his milk. 

“Yeah! We were walking to the gym and he was all,” Shouyou spikes his hair up and raises his voice and octave. “Hinata-kun, you’re friends with Yachi, right? Do you think she likes me? Should I ask her out?”

Yachi’s face resembles a bright tomato. “Oh no,” she warbles. “Oh no, oh no, oh no.” She falls to the ground. 

Shouyou melts out of his chair to sit down beside her. “What are you going to say?” 

“Oh no, no, no,” Yachi’s voice is muffled by the floor. 

Kageyama takes the straw of the milk box out of his mouth. “I think that’s not a good sign.” Astute. 

Shouyou claps Yachi on the back. “Hey! It’s just one date, Yachi. And if you don’t want to, you just let him know! It’s okay, Abe acts annoying and he is, but he’s just a big softie.” 

Yachi looks up from the floor. “It’s a problem because he’s a _boy_.” She whispers. 

Shouyou’s hand hovers right over her shoulder. “ _Oh_.” 

“Oh.” She agrees. 

“Oh.” Kageyama pipes in. 

Yachi gets on her knees in a flash. “Hinata!” She yells. “You need to reject him for me!” 

“What?! I can’t do that-” 

“I can.” Kageyama says, uninterested. “Yo, Abe.”

Abe stands at the door, a box of chocolates in his hand. He looks woefully unprepared. 

“Yachi doesn’t like you. She said go away.” Kageyama says. On cue, he takes another sip of milk.

Abe gapes. Yachi buries her face in a book. 

-

Mama is late tonight, and Natsu is super fidgety- kicking the walls and wailing loudly. She’s just turned 8, and there is a boy in class who is suuuuper annoying and really gross, and _Shouchan did you know he wipes his boogers on the desk and pulls my hair? I’m going to kill him._ Kid vaguely reminds him of Kageyama- and gross, that’s a mental image he did not want. Now he’s awake as well.

He takes her down the street to the park, and they lay on a soft wool blanket under the summer night sky. 

He’s lived in Miyagi for almost 4 years now, steadily nearing 5. Logically he knows that this is the same moon he’d stare at with Koba for hours in Nagoya, and these are the same stars that blinked into his vision even after he closed his eyelids and submitted to the quiet dark.

Yet this sky seems so much larger. This great expanse seems to stretch on for miles and miles, and he could try and try to reach it all but he doesn’t think he ever would. It’s exhilarating. 

It was only last year he’d discovered he couldn’t really remember much of his childhood. Spots of it seem to blink out of his memory like strobe lights- he vividly remember the texture of the cake he’d smashed into Ito’s face, and her ugly scream of horror when a bit landed on her dress- but ask him to recall the entire year of being six and he could not remember. Not for the life of him.

Natsu tugs on his arm. “Shou,” she whines. “I’m still not sleepy.” 

Shouyou bites the inside of his cheek in annoyance. She could at least be quiet. “Piggyback?” he finally relents, sighing. 

He knows he is short. He’s okay with it. There are far worse things to be- and it’s not like it really hurts him in anything except volleyball. 

But it does sting a little when he barely has to lean down for Natsu to assault him, jumping up onto his shoulders with childish glee. Just a _few_ more inches...

He traipses up and down the street, Natsu’s breath soft against his ear. Little sisters are so demanding. Here he is, all of sixteen years and giving an eight-year-old brat a piggyback ride at one in the morning. 

He doesn’t remember fifth grade- ten years old, at the time. He knows Takashi left that year. Shouyou had been home more than ever- Natsu only two at the time, and mama unraveling at the seams.

Natsu’s head lolls against his neck, and Shouyou smiles at the ground. Few things have ever been so solidly good. 

He regrets nothing.

-

“What are you afraid of, Kageyamaaaaa?” Shouyou asks. They walk light along the edge of the mountain- it’s a Mandatory Bonding SessionTM that they were definitely coerced into by the Evil Sugawara Koushi. They did not decide to hang out on their own because they are rivals and they would never ever do that even if Kageyama thinks Hinata is the only person that understands him and Shouyou thinks Kageyama is the only person that can keep up with him. 

Kageyama takes a bite out of his milk popsicle like the monster from hell he is. He squints in the bright sunlight. “What kind of question is that?” He grumbles. 

Shouyou laughs brightly. “How can you ask a question about a question?” He teases, smile shifting easily to a smirk. “I bet it’s something super dumb, right,” he taunts, hands coming to lean on his hips. “Like butterflies, or just butter and flies but separate,” he cackles, throwing his head back. He’s gonna bring butter to throw at Kageyama at tomorrow’s morning practice.

“Shut up!” Kageyama’s face flushes a deep red, and his hand shoots out to grab Shouyou’s face, who easily dodges. “I don’t have dumb fears,” he mumbles. 

“Really,” Shouyou does not believe him. “Prove it then.”

He smiles, but Kageyama has seen enough ShouyouSmiles to tell what this one says. _Tell the truth,_ the curve of his lips taunt. _Or are you really so scared? Of me? I guess that would be your fear, huh, Kageyama-kun?_

Kageyama rolls his eyes. “I don’t know?” then, in a much quieter tone, “Cats.”

Shouyou blinks, gapes, then immediately laughs again. “Cats!” he explodes. “That’s so lame, yamayama. They’re so small, how can you be afraid of them-”

“Dumbass, you shouldn’t make fun of people’s fears-” 

“It’s just a little wittle _itty_ kitten,” 

Kageyama’s hand shoots out, nailing Shouyou right in the stomach. 

-

His knuckles go white against the stained porcelain of the Tokyo school’s sinks. Where is he again? Why is here when did he get here who let him get here-

Right. Training Camp. Tokyo Training Camp, part fucking two, sponsored by Kageyama’s ugly reactive temper and Shouyou’s crippling sense of self. Complete with teen angst and a healthy dose of secret bathroom breakdowns.

They are not in sync, Kageyama’s tosses are shit but only to him because Shouyou is some kind of high-maintenance volleyball diva, and can’t hit a toss that’s less than perfect.

Shouyou watches his scowl deepen in the mirror, his eyebrows dip deeper, his face scrunches up like it always does before he lets loose a sob. He always cried like the world was ending- because he’s a crybaby with an empty pit for a stomach and sometimes it feels like it does. It always feels like the world was a whole lot of nothing, and Shouyou was one person who just wanted to be something when he’d already gotten the memo of who he was. Just some poor-kid-turned-country-hick who needed to make amends that he’s never gonna go anywhere like this. 

Shouyou’s hands clench, further and further, and maybe it’s a good thing he’d missed weight training for a few weeks in favor of blocking practice because then maybe he would have cracked the porcelain under his hands and he’d have to pick up extra shifts and he’d miss more volleyball and then he’d truly have no hope of being better-

“Hinata?” A soft voice comes. 

Shouyou wrenches his eyes away from his reflection in the mirror with difficulty. His throat goes dry. “Uh… Akaashi-san?” 

Fukurodani’s setter stands sheepishly, every bone in his body looking like it’d be anywhere but here- save for his eyes, fixated on Hinata’s hands. “You’re bleeding.” 

Shouyou glances down and- yep. That’s blood. Good going, Shouyou, now every spike you miss is going to hurt _even_ more! Hope you’re going to be able to stay up even when coach turns the lights off! 

“Oh.” 

Akaashi steps forward, taking Shouyou’s hand in his own. Shouyou, who is suddenly faced with the fact that this super cool, super pretty, older boy- a star player for a star school- had caught him trying to battle his reflection. His cheeks flush red. 

“I’m so sorry!” He bursts, feet pumping with nervous energy. “I don’t know what got into me there- it was totally nothing, I’m fine, really-” 

Akaashi stops him with a withering glare. The younger stops dead, for possibly the second time in the past minute. 

“We’re heading down to get a first-aid kit.” The older boy says firmly. “These cuts are shallow, so they’ll be fine with just some ointment and gauze. You need to be more careful. A player’s hands are their more valuable asset.” 

Shouyou licks his lips. “Yes!” He blinks. “Sir!” He adds as an afterthought. 

Akaashi’s brow quirks. 

Ten minutes later, Shouyou sits across from Akaashi as he wraps a bandage around the last scratch on his hands. Hinata stands up, clenching them, ready to leave- but the other stops him with a light tap. _Sit_ , he motions. 

Akaashi wrings his hands, and for a second Hinata thinks he looks _nervous_. “I apologize if I am intruding. I am not the best with words.” Akaashi says. “Hinata, right?” 

Shouyou cocks his head. 

“Are you okay?” As dignified and refined as Akaashi seems, the words seem to tumble out of his mouth. “You seemed very… troubled, in the bathroom, and uh-” He looks away, down at the gym floor. “There are many scars on your hands. And arms.” 

Shouyou blinks, casting a glance down. Would ya look at that. There are. 

“Uh…” he replies, intelligent. 

“You don’t need to tell me!” Akaashi butts in, a very clear _please-do-not-tell-me_ scribbled over his expression. “But just… I mean, if you need to talk to someone, you can- to me, I mean- but I just…” Akaashi bites his lip. 

Shouyou- completely lost at this point- cocks his head again. What is going on? 

“Are you in an abusive relationship!?” Akaashi finally shouts. 

Shouyou gapes. 

“You’re younger than me, and Bokuto-san seems very taken with you, so I feel the responsibility of an elder, but-” 

“Akaashi-san,” Shouyou fights the urge to giggle hysterically. “I’m not even dating anyone, you don’t need to worry about that.” How did he get here? No, _really_.

Akaashi looks rightly embarrassed. “My deepest apologies.” Shouyou has to stop him from bowing. “Nonetheless, you are troubled and it seems you’re hurt. I will walk you back to the gym and let your upperclassmen know.” 

The calm and dignified tone Akaashi takes on is a very good ruse, but there’s a clear shame in his eyes. Shouyou laughs. He feels better now, a bit. 

“Hinata,” Akaashi says, as they depart in gym 2- after Daichi fussed over the mess Shouyou had made of his hands. It’s no matter, he can still spike. A little sting never hurt anyone. 

“If you did that to yourself, even by accident.” He cocks his head towards his arms. “You cannot be the best volleyball player. We need to keep our bodies and minds in tiptop shape.” 

Shouyou physically bites his tongue. Akaashi was right, he did overstep. A lot. 

He thanks him, and the older boy leaves without a glance back. What does he know? A year doesn’t change shit. Shouyou is going to be better if it kills him. 

-

The weekend after they beat Shiratorizawa they have a team party at Nishinoya’s house. Noya-san lives with his grandparents who are probably the coolest old people on planet earth. He has a hot tub he prays Kiyoko-san will get in (she won’t, she’s trying to throw popcorn into Yachi’s mouth right now), booze, and Netflix. Noya’s grandma bakes them Dorayaki and winks at the liquor cabinet, making Tanaka promise not to get into the Whiskey because that’s for them. 

Shouyou takes a big swig of something called Vodka and almost has an aneurysm. He’s had alcohol before- probably more than he should have- but only ever stuff Takashi’s stupid head left around or whatever they could squabble up from Kaori’s parent’s in middle school.

“Bah!” He spits. “What _is_ that?!” 

Sugawara outright cackles, pouring some of the glass Shouyou is holding into a brightly colored concoction. 

“Hinata, you’ve drunk before?” Nishinoya raises an eyebrow. “I _knew_ you were holding out on us!” He cheers with Tanaka. “We have the coolest underclassmen!” 

Shouyou keens under the praise, cheeks flaring up. “Well you know, just at _parties_ here and there-” he tries to play it off cool, like the first time he drank wasn’t when Takashi accidentally mixed up his glass of apple juice with a morning kickstarter of rum. 

They cheer some more, Yachi comes running in to show them her mouth is stuffed with popcorn- apparently, Kiyoko-san has a perfect aim- and Sugawara puts on a Russian thriller that has Yamaguchi half-crying ten minutes in. 

Three hours later, Asahi has passed out on the couch and they’ve all already had their allotted amounts of teenage drinking for the night. Even though Noya-san’s grandparents are cool, they cut them off pretty soon after Tsukishima tried to pause the movie with his headphones. 

The damage is done though- they’re drunk. Kiyoko is gossipping about some other third years to Daichi and Sugawara, and they think they’re quiet but Shouyou can catch every word. 

The rundown: Himiko-chan is cheating on Watari with Tsubaki, but she doesn’t know Tsubaki and Watari are cousins. He’s going to stage a coup at her house and tattle to the whole school that she’s a dirty cheater. But he doesn’t know Tsubaki’s true heart belongs to Himiko, and she’s going to stop him and confess her undying love right before he does. Kiyoko-san thinks they should just skip the theatrics in school, but Suga-san wants it to happen during third period because he hates Physics. Daichi is pretending to be neutral, but he giggles every time Suga-san says Himiko was out of Watari’s bigass forehead’s league anyway.

Not like he’ll remember any of this tomorrow, anyway. 

“Okayyy,” Tanaka slurs. “Truth or… dare,” he says the last word with finality. Good job, Tanaka-san. You got it. 

Shouyou lifts his head from the floor to blink weakly up at him. “Dare.” He finally gets out. Oh my god, he is so tired. Why is the world so heavy? Can he sleep now? Right now.

Yachi cackles loudly, right in his ear. “Hinata-kun,” she gushes. “It’s not your turn!” She turns to Kageyama, who _barely_ even had two white claws, and they laugh like it’s the funniest thing in the world. Hinata thinks that Vodka gives you super hearing probably because that sound will forever be implanted into his brain as the loudest thing ever. 

Noya-san sways. “They’re so loud,” he whines. “Why are they so loud?” 

Tsukishima’s head hits the table with a loud _‘bonk’_. Yachi and Kageyama point and laugh some more. 

“Hi...nat...aaaa,” Tanaka says again, dragging out every syllable. “I dare you…” please say go to sleep, please say I dare you to go to sleep,

“Kiss someone!” Tanaka finishes, giggling like he’s the protagonist of a Shoujo manga. 

Kinoshita, nursing a bottle of water, simply lets a soft “ _Oooooooh_ ,” go. Ever the man.

“I changed my mind.” Shouyou mumbles, voice softened by the hardwood that he lies against. He’s never going to drink a sip of alcohol again. How did Takashi live like this- he feels like he’s going to die an untimely death. 

Yamaguchi returns from throwing up in Noya-san’s bushes and promptly passes out on Tsukishima’s back- who’s so far gone he can’t resist, at this point.

“Okaaaaaaay,” Tanaka whispers, and Shouyou knows he’s wiggling his fingers in that creepy way of his. “Have you ever kissed someone?” 

Shouyou groans, before nodding his head yes. “Can you kill me?” He wonders aloud. 

“I will,” Tsukishima whispers, unable to move his head from the table it still lays on. 

“ _Waaaaaaiiiiit_. Wait a minute. Wait.” Tanaka says. “Everyone wait!” 

“Hinata has kissed someone!” He hollers, and no one really cares, but they grunt their assent, and Shouyou is so glad because he really wants the ground to come up and swallow him whole like, right now. He feels so heavy. 

Kageyama stops his incessant snorting with Yachi to glance at Hinata, confused. “Wait.” 

Shouyou waits. 

“I forgot what I was going to say.” Kageyama proudly announces a minute later. Yachi slaps a hand on his arm, and Shouyou thinks she’s going to pass out if she doesn’t get a breath in between all those laughs. It will be a terribly sad funeral. Maybe if he lives through this terrible evil ordeal he can sign a song in remembrance. 

Tsukishima laughs breathlessly across the table. Leave it to him to somehow still be making fun of people. 

“Wait. I remember now.” Kageyama says. “You.. you kissed someone, Hinata?” He questions and Yachi rolls on the ground between them. Seriously, she needs to breathe. 

“Yeah,” he groans, hoping the sound reaches because even the strongest metal on earth could not move his head from this position, nope. He will live and die here. Sidenote- is it normal to feel your pulse in your teeth? 

“Whaaaat,” Kageyama says, sounding an awful lot like Tanaka- who just remembered he locked Ennoshita and Narita on the patio when they were trying to get a selfie with a squirrel. Nevermind that in all his four years here Shouyou has never seen one. 

“Oh my god,” Shouyou says. “Literally be quiet because my entire face is exploding like Bwahh.” 

It’s sad. Sound effects lose all their glamor when one is holding back yesterday’s lunch. 

On Monday, Kageyama looks at him weirdly. It’s awkward for ten minutes until Shouyou spikes a ball into his butt and the other boy chases him around the gym promising no mercy. 

-

He’s never felt more fucking pathetic. 

_“So what are you even doing here?”_

Ushijima has a way of saying things. That way being that he can root out your deepest insecurities and squeeze them dangerously close to bursting, right between his forefinger and thumb. He doesn’t even mean to- and Shouyou doesn’t know if that’s better or worse. 

He hopes the two mats he’s squeezed in between compress and crush his skull. Then Washijo-san can feel guilt for being _mean_ . But no way is he gonna leave- no fucking way. He knows what Washijo wanted when he threw down the gauntlet and looked at him with the eyes of a piercing eagle- _“You can leave anytime you want.”_

So. Ball boy. It’s not the worst thing- he still gets to be near the court, he can… he can-

Who is he kidding? He has no place here, and he probably should have just taken his chances at getting in Kageyama’s stupid camp. He could have got a prison tattoo and everyone would think he was cool. 

He opens his mouth and lets out a muffled scream. This is so fucking dumb. He is so fucking dumb. 

Shouyou disentangles himself from the mess and takes a deep breath in. He’s stuck here now. The world is moving too fast and he is stuck behind, and he is here. He needs to learn to deal with it like everything else because no one will wait for him. 

His thoughts race as he exits the dusty closet- not anything different from normal. It’s fine, this is fine- he just needs to work around it. There must be something he can do here. 

There _must_ be.

-

Shouyou can’t sleep the night before the Spring Tournament. 

He thinks this is probably what it feels like to be tall. He feels like he could do anything, and he must. Energy exudes from him- so much so that Ennoshita-san tells him if he doesn’t go to bed early _(that means before 12, Hinata),_ he’s going to dose him with sleeping pills on the bus. 

He comes bounding down the stairs at 2 AM. Sleep is usually a lost cause for him, but today more than ever. Who cares. He’s going to the Spring Tournament! To play volleyball! With his friends! In Tokyo! He’s going to play volleyball! This is insane. He should go for a run, maybe. 

His brain feels like _Fwaahhhh_ !! And _zoom_!! Life is so crazy. He’s going to write a book.

He skips out into the cold night air and is only half-surprised to see mama sitting on the concrete steps leading up to the house, the stench of cigarettes filling his nose. He knows she only smokes when she thinks Shouyou can’t see. They haven’t talked in a while. 

He sits down beside her- boundless energy somehow quelled by the soft moonlight washing over her face. She’s only 35, but sometimes her eyes look like she’s seen a million centuries. Her short black hair looks dull.

“Shouyou,” she smiles at him. “Didn’t expect you to be up.” 

“Can’t sleep.” 

She hums in response, taking another drag of the cigarette. “I’m sorry. Trying to quit.” She lies.

Shouyou nods. 

“You should go to sleep,” she continues, voice blending in with the chirping crickets. “Big day tomorrow!” She smiles at him, and it twists Shouyou’s insides. 

“Yeah.” 

She looks back out into the street leading up the mountain. “You know,” she says wistfully when Shouyou’s feet start to tap in the silence and his head thrums with the need to _move_ again. “When you were born, I promised the doctors you would be a star.” 

Shouyou’s mouth quirks. What a strange thing to say about a baby. 

“I was right, you know.” She switches the hand holding the cigarette and ruffles his hair fondly. “You’re not of this world. Something in you burns so much brighter than anything I’ve seen.” 

Shouyou’s cheeks heat. “Maaa,” he whines. “Don’t say all that.” 

Mama laughs, the sound ringing clearly through the air. “Why not?” She teases. “I’ve said nothing but the truth.” 

He hides his face in his arm, leaning into her touch. What do you even say to that? She wraps her arm around him and kisses the top of his head. For a second he pretends he’s eight again, and that this is his entire world. That may be nice, he thinks. But this is fine- he’s happier here, now. The happiest he’s ever been. 

-

Those three days pass him in a blur. He doesn’t really sleep, he doesn’t really eat- but who needs that anyway? He is in _Tokyo_ . He is playing _volleyball_. He is going to shit his pants in excitement. Oh my god. 

There’s not a single team here you could call bad, or easy. Everything is a challenge and he works so hard for every point and there is nothing better. He buys a t-shirt that says Way of the Ace because that’s going to be him one day and there is nothing better. 

Shouyou doesn’t think he’s ever felt this high in his life. Everything is so _good_. AGH!

They win against Nekoma and Shouyou hugs Kenma even though they lost and Kenma hugs back and they tell him they’re fun and Shouyou is exploding. It’s so good. 

Shouyou doesn’t rest after their game. He is bouncing. He is a bouncing ball on a trampoline and also the trampoline is on an air mattress and the earth is made of springs. How could he sleep or rest like that? You’re ridiculous. 

They’re going to play Kamomedai. He’s going against Hoshiumi- a Little Giant. Probably a much better one than stupid Udai who gave up. Shouyou could never give up. He is bursting with the need to play, right now right here right this second. 

He feels unstoppable.

-

He watches the rest of the match on Kenma’s tablet. They were nice enough to lend it to him as he lays in the soft bed of the hospital. He thinks he’s cried more today than ever in his life. He can’t sleep but it’s the only thing he wants. 

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhhh.. xoxo stay tuned for some ANGST angst. this chapter was a lot lighter I wanted to make sure it gets across that this story is not a straight tragedy hehe PLUS how close the team is and how hinata interacts with others. wink wink  
> enjoy!!


	3. who you are

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> shouyou may have a problem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: more talk of child abuse. cw therapy and meds. this is 10.8k words #sorrynotsorry

_ Run up, jump. You’re at your highest point. You’re your weakest. Take a second- what do you see? _

-

The bus ride from Tokyo is the worst he’s felt in a long time. He sits alone in the back. No one speaks to him. He cries at graduation, even though Suga-san promises him he’ll visit and Tsukishima laughs at him. 

-

He gets sick again that summer- sits out of practice when the summer heat threatens to swallow him whole and his vision blurs with sweat. Mama takes his temperature at home. He misses four days of practice. 

No one’s quite too sure where it comes from, even when Natsu asks him why noise was coming from his room when the sun had just risen and the leftovers they’d have the next day steadily grew. 

It’s not like he can’t take care of himself. He could. He  _ could  _ sleep and he  _ could  _ eat. It’s all just physical movement- hand grasps the fork, fork lifts to his mouth. 

He goes to their first summer practice- Ennoshita standing tall and nervous, barking orders. No first-years, not yet- but no third-years either. Tsukishima sees him and doesn’t even crack a joke. Just a straight ‘You look like shit.’ 

He does, probably. Eyes ringed with dark shadows and face gaunt, tanned with the summer sun. 

It’s not because of the Spring Tournament- that would be stupid. It’s not his fault they lost. He can only be responsible for himself- all ideals he should be able to carry out, right? 

It’s not because he lost. 

This is physical too, in a way. His stomach rolls when he puts down a plate of curry rice in front of Natsu. His eyes, heavy with the day, refuse to close when the moon’s stray rays get in through his blinds. 

So he stumbles to the wall, hazy with sickness and Ennoshita sends him, and Tanaka and Noya send him ridiculous, pitying stares. Whatever.

-

Kageyama visits him the third time. Two weeks to Inter-high, and Hinata is bedridden with some variant strain of the flu. Mom’s at the hospital again. 

“Idiot.” He says. 

Shouyou breathes out a chuckle. “No presents, yamayama?” 

“You’re a fucking idiot.” 

Shouyou wants to wave his hand at him, but no- it’s too cold outside of this blanket. He feels delirious. “Yeah, yeah.” 

“Two weeks.” Kageyama bites. 

“I’m sorry,” Shouyou whines. He’s not sorry. He didn’t do this. 

“Because really,” Kageyama bulldozes on. “You have to be a special brand of idiot to make yourself sick-“ 

“What?” Shouyou’s not all there- did he hear?

“Get sick and drop out on your team, on your dream, because you’re too afraid to be better.” Kageyama’s eyes glint. 

“What the fuck?” 

“What are you so afraid of?” Kageyama’s voice is flat. He stares straight ahead. “You can take care of yourself. You just won’t.”

“Listen,” Shouyou’s voice comes out warbled. “I didn’t make myself sick, dumbass. Sometimes people get sick- do you get that? Is your head too thick to understand that too?” 

“Three times in four months. You did this.” Kageyama lowers his chin, eyes piercing through Shouyou’s soul. 

“Fuck you.” 

“Why do you do that?” Kageyama’s voice takes on a cutting edge. “Because you know I’m going to leave you behind?”

“Shut up. Now.” 

“Because you’re afraid you’ll never get better? Because you can’t be better? Because-“ his voice drops, but his gaze doesn’t waver. “Because daddy never loved you?” 

Shouyou summons all his strength to yank Kageyama’s collar down, pulling him to eye-level. “I said,” he pants. “Shut. Up.” 

Kageyama’s mouth sits set in a neutral line. “Answer my question, then.” Shouyou will forever abhor how easily Kageyama can control his face. 

“What about you, huh?” Shouyou snarls. “Why do you need to fuck up every person that walks into your life? That’s why you’re so broody and lonely and no one likes you. ‘Cause you’re  _ such  _ a piece of shit.” 

Kageyama’s mouth dips uncertainly. His eyebrows scrunch together. 

“You say I’m afraid? You say I get sick on purpose?” Shouyou’s muscles are on fire. He’s so tired. “At least I know what I’m doing. But your problem is always going to be that you’re  _ you _ . You can’t change that.” 

Kageyama stands up, and Shouyou flops down onto his back with an ‘oof’. He can’t stop the satisfied grin spreading on his face. He’s exhausted. He has no regrets. 

“Eat and sleep well.” Kageyama says. “Or don’t. I don’t care at all- but you better be on the court by Monday. Don’t expect a toss otherwise.” 

His door slams shut. 

-

Shouyou has never been a good sleeper. He was always up- running, bouncing, laughing. Mama always said he was a cheerful baby. The softest of noises would wake him. 

That said, he doesn’t dream- not really. Most nights he wakes at least twice, and the short sleep schedules work for him. 

But his body is tired, without enough food, without enough sleep, with too much work. Extra hours at Suzuki’s, extra hours at the gym, extra extra extra. It’s always too much and it’s never enough. 

He dreams tonight. 

Takashi stands in front of him. No- he’s sitting. Arms crossed. Shouyou’s heart stutters. 

“Hello.” Takashi- his Father’s voice blends in with the white noise of his head- but there is no noise. It’s silent. It’s too loud. Where is he? 

“Hi.” Shouyou says. Now he’s behind him. He stares at Takashi’s back. 

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” 

Shouyou nods. Takashi sees- but his back is to him. How did he see? Where is he? 

“I’m not Takashi.” Takashi answers. 

“Can you read my mind?” Shouyou blurts. How did he- where is he? 

“I’m you, Shouyou.” He is in front of him. Shouyou is standing, Takashi is sitting, and Takashi looks up and his grin slashes Shouyou’s insides. Shouyou stumbles back. He thinks he is afraid. 

“Don’t be afraid, Shouyou.” Takashi’s smile is sympathetic. Shouyou knows it’s a lie. “I always apologized, right?” 

His voice surprises him. “I don’t remember.” 

He is under Takashi. Takashi is over him, hand raised, and Shouyou’s head is bursting. Maybe he’s dead. Maybe he’s dead and this is hell because he was mean to Kageyama and skipped out on his team. 

Takashi offers him a hand. Shouyou stands. He doesn’t know when he fell. “I’m you.” He says again, voice sickeningly-sweet. “I’m no one else.” 

Shouyou wakes with a gasp, laying in a puddle of sweat. Mama is beside him. “Oh good!” She says. “You’re awake. Your fever broke!”

-

You’re probably confused. Rightfully so- three chapters of this presumptuous, pretentious, poetic bullshit. And no answers. It’s what you want, right? 

Answers. 

Shouyou is just past his 17th. And he is chock-full, toes-to-titties, bursting with questions. Why, why, why  _ whywhywhy _ ? 

So. We have a young boy. Young boy, poor boy, bastard boy. This young boy- he is left to rot, in a home. A poor home. A bastard home. 

It’s not their fault, you know? Shouyou had an alright childhood- yes, he was hungry and yes, he was poor. But all Aimi knew was love for her son and her never-ending quest to keep trying. And Takashi- well, Takashi loved them- maybe. He simply loved the bottle more. 

Sometimes, more doesn’t matter. In those days when Takashi was promoted at the bar, and he brought home a fuller paycheck and swung little Shouyou around, and kissed the tip of Aimi’s nose, he loved them enough. 

And sometimes, trying was enough- when Aimi went from nurse-in-training to practitioner, when she finally got the hand of that new dish, when she pushed Natsu the highest she could go on the swing. It was enough. 

But sometimes. Sometimes, enough just isn’t… enough. Takashi left. Shouyou didn’t go to school. Natsu cried. Aimi thought she would die there, and she wouldn’t care as long her kids-. 

Life goes on, you know? Even when it isn’t enough, even when Shouyou learns how to  _ starve,  _ every part of his body promising him there is something  _ more  _ out there, past this hell. You move on. 

Flash-forward- Shouyou learns of volleyball, he learns of friendships and love and hate and he’s on fire. 

Is that his answer? Has he arrived? 

We’ll pause here- why don’t you answer? 

Yeah. He has a ways to go. 

And right now- he doesn’t know what that  _ more  _ is, and he is terrified of that more. Maybe he wants to stop. Maybe it’s for a second, maybe for an hour or a week or a year. 

Let’s continue, shall we?

-

The sun stays hidden today. It’s dark and cloudy in Miyagi, just on the brink of raining- but Shouyou doesn’t think it’s going to rain today. 

It’s this weather that’s the worst, usually. Forever on the edge of finally giving up, and letting blissful water drop from the heavens above. 

He rounds the corner, hopping off his bike with a pant, tying the rubber chain along the post- and looks up. Hm. 

Kageyama stares at him. 

Shouyou stares back. 

“I’m not going to apologize,” Shouyou announces loudly, flipping the code with a flourish. 

“I won’t either.” Kageyama grunts. 

“Fine!” 

“Good.”

Shouyou stares a second longer- just a second- then quick as a flash, steps off his feet and dashes forwards. Kageyama hollers- _ ‘Not fair!’ _ \- and he hears footsteps behind him. No way Shouyou is gonna lose. 

He throws himself forward, sliding past the club room. “Ha!” he spits, leaning up on his elbows. “I win!” he bites at Kageyama. 

Kageyama glares down. He wrinkles his nose and- woah, wait, is that a blush? He’s blushing? 

Ennoshita climbs up behind them, keys spinning around his finger. “Just got back and already fighting, huh?” He says lazily, stepping past Shouyou to fiddle with the club door. 

“You feeling better, Hinata?” He says absentmindedly, pushing open the door. “If you need a week off or something-” 

“No!” Shouyou pipes. “I’m all good.” He flexes, grinning widely. 

Ennoshita laughs. “That’s good. We need you on this team, you know.” He says seriously. 

Shouyou feels his heart swell. They  _ need  _ him.

“Yes!” 

-

They got news that Takashi was dead almost three months ago today. He guesses that’s when all the nightmares started

_ ‘An aneurysm,’ _ they said. _ ‘He’d been dead for a few days when his neighbor reported a strange smell.’ _

_ ‘It was painless. Quick.’  _ They said. 

Shouyou thanks them, on the phone. Mama at the hospital again- he should probably call her and let her know. They offer their condolences. 

He sits down on the cool leather of the seat. Huh. Dead. 

Shouyou never expected to see Takashi again. 

Natsu had asked about him, a few years back. Wondered why her family didn’t really look like Miki-chan’s. Mama had just ruffled her hair, asking her if  _ ‘this wasn’t enough?’ _ teasing, laughing. Natsu probably doesn’t remember anything about him. She was just a baby. 

They probably won’t even tell her. 

Shouyou feels weak- his body feels like it’s about to crumble at the seams, like his eyes are about to snap out of his skull-

Oh. Yes. He takes a deep breath in, the panic subsiding. 

They said it was a quick death. An aneurysm- he vaguely remembers something about that in one of the medical dramas Yamaguchi loves to cry over. 

It was probably for the best, really. Takashi was a drifting man, cursed to stay at sea with no sail. Shouyou supposes he and mama were just the unlucky stowaways that got stuck with him. 

He takes in another shuddering, deep breath. 

This is stupid. 

You know what? You know what Shouyou is? He’s fucking happy. He’s fucking glad that bastard is gone. 

Takashi was a lot of Shouyou’s firsts. First one to see him walk, first one to pick him up when he fell, first one to hurt him and first one to leave him. First person he ever hated. And now, first person he’s lost,  _ really  _ lost, to life’s curse. Not that he cares- he doesn’t care.

This is stupid. 

-

Concern is a funny thing. 

He eats little and sleeps even less, these days. Ennoshita-san tells him he can talk to them about anything and mama takes a few days off, threatening to make him sleep outside if he doesn’t finish dinner today. He doesn’t mention that would be worse for his health. 

It’s concern that he’s always held, never been held  _ with _ . Concern that fills him when mama opens her second pack of the day, when Natsu cries because a girl at school was mean, when Tsukishima clams up and doesn’t even laugh at his failed serves, when Kageyama gets mad, really mad, and rolls up into himself in silence. So it’s weird to be on the receiving end. 

He should be doing great. He should be happy. 

Mama has tenure. They have money and food and water, and no one’s ever gonna really bother them. His teachers this year are nice. He has volleyball and he has his life. 

Shouyou ignores the pit in his stomach and scoops up the last of his noodles. He doesn’t look at mama when he says goodnight. He’s probably mad today. 

-

“Hello,” Takashi says, looking straight ahead. Shouyou sits beside him, criss-cross and leaning back on the palm of his hands. 

Shouyou sighs. He’s come to expect this space, when sleep overtakes him every night. Blank white walls, a square room- no way out or in. Empty but for a single wooden chair that Takashi sits in. 

“You’re excited,” he quips, an amused smile dancing on his lips. Shouyou falls back. 

“So,” Takashi lifts a hand. “What do you want to talk about? We have a while, after all.” 

“Get out of my head.” Shouyou grumbles. The last person he wants to talk to is his dad. 

“Not your dad,” Takashi says. “Remember?” 

“Yeah, yeah. You’re me or whatever that means.” Sugawara-san once said he was the kind of guy that wouldn’t rest even in his sleep. Oh what a curse that had turned out to be. 

Shouyou rolls onto his side. He’s in front of Takashi now. Doesn’t know how he got there- yada yada. Details. It’s how physics or motion or whatever works in this stupid room. 

“How was your day?” Takashi asks blandly, looking straight ahead. As if it’s a normal conversation in a normal place. 

Shouyou bites his lip. This could be painful. 

“It was okay, I guess,” he croaks. 

-

Kageyama doesn’t talk to him anymore, not really. They still race to the club room every morning, even when Shouyou feels weak after another restless night. They are still in perfect sync on the court- where it matters. 

It’s a little disheartening- they used to eat lunch together, finding a quiet spot on the rooftop with Yachi. Inevitably, Yamaguchi would drag Tsukki along. 

Hinata sits across from his friend on the track team, picking at his food with a spoon. 

“-and then I was like, what the fuck?” Mai says, hands flying out. “The goddamn audacity,” she laughs. Mai is in the drama club, and she seems to take that title to heart- narrating a tussle over a pair of pants at the store with Shakespearean prose. 

Shouyou nods. It’s been another dull day. He kinda just wants to go to afternoon practice and melt into the ground, and never come up again. This is exhausting. 

“Hey, Shou-kun,” Mai smiles. “You haven’t touched your food at all, what’s up?”

Shouyou casts her a half-smile. “Nothing- just kind of tired.” 

Mai furrows her eyebrows. “Well, if you’re tired you should eat, right?” 

Huh. She’s right. 

Shouyou picks at the corner of his rice, flicking it into his mouth. He chews obnoxiously, and his friend across from him laughs while Mai squeals with disgust. “Happy now?” He laughs. It feels hollow. It kind of hurts. 

-

Satoru-sensei is his math teacher. Satoru-sensei has light brown hair that could be mistaken for orange in a second. Satoru-sensei is irritable and prone to mood-swings, quick to cancel pop quizzes but harshly grade their tests. 

Satoru-sensei is kind of like his father, in many ways. 

So today, when he stands over his desk, large and looming, and scolds him- never too much, but just toeing that line where it’s not okay anymore- and his eyes flash when Shouyou mentions the homework was dumb and his hands slam down- yeah, something animal takes him over. 

He doesn’t remember falling out of his seat, and he doesn’t remember running. He only really knows what’s happened when he’s already outside of the school, panting. Oh, his eyes are wet- no, his whole face is. 

What is this. 

Shouyou leans on his knees, crumbling to the ground with a gasp. None of this is right. His head is swimming with a memory that isn’t his, that  _ can’t _ be his, because he  _ doesn’t remember this  _ and he is  _ 7 years old right now _ but he knows he isn’t and  _ Takashi smells like putrid rum and tobacco and his hand is baring down because Shouyou broke the vase, but he didn’t mean to and all he wanted was to play a little bit more _ -

The day after, he goes to class, and Satoru-sensei writes him up for three days detention with an apology for scaring him like that, but he can’t be running off. Shouyou tastes blood in his mouth.

-

The third years join them for a practice match, two weeks from the Inter-high. Shouyou feels like he’s on fire- the burning coursing through his veins invigorates him, like a splash of cold water in the middle of July heat. His smile feels golden. He digs 5 of  _ Asahi’s  _ spikes, and blows right past one of Tsukishima’s blocks- nevermind the other ones. Daichi looks proud. 

Shouyou drags out the last drop from his water bottle, and leans back with a content sigh. “That felt so good!” He says, hand coming out in front of him- it’s still bright red. 

Tanaka looks over at him, and the smile he gives him seems to break his face in two. “We  _ killed  _ that, Hinata,” he exclaims, just as loud and bright. “Of course, when you have  _ me _ , what else can you expect.” He knocks Shouyou with his elbow.

Shouyou laughs, wiping at his forehead with the hem of his shirt. “Yeah, especially since you were showing off for your,” he leans in close, “ _ giiiiirlfriend _ .” 

By some miracle, Tanaka had rummaged up the guts to ask Shimizu out at the end of last year, right before graduation. And she’d accepted. 

It had been a glorious day for them all. He thinks Noya-san had even cried. 

Tanaka’s smile turns affectionate. “It’s good to see you like this, Hinata.” He says. 

Shouyou’s eyebrow creases. “What?” 

“You know-” Tanaka looks sheepish. “You’ve been a little,” he gestures vaguely, hand waving. “Lately.” 

Annoyance ticks in Shouyou’s smile. Goddamn it. This was not how he wanted such a good day to end. “I don’t know what you mean.” 

“ _ Ah _ , it’s nothing,” Tanaka waves him off. “It’s just good to see you happy.” 

“Yeah.” Hinata stands up, definitely slamming his water bottle down a little  _ too  _ hard. “That’s nice.” He should get cleaned up- but it doesn’t matter, anyways. He already knows he’s taking the long way home today. 

-

The thing is, he knows he should be more worried about this whole…  _ thing _ . He could eat and he could sleep. He could stop being a coward and allow himself a second to think about why he won’t. 

But really, he’d rather not. 

And in that sense, Shouyou thinks it’s another loss on his chart. He just. Can’t care. Won’t care. There’s only ever one thing he wants to do and it’s play volleyball. He doesn’t want to sleep or eat or care or breathe, really. Not  _ really _ . And it’s probably unhealthy- it definitely is. 

Natsu cries three days before the Inter-high, when Shouyou is late because he was practicing his serve with Yamaguchi and mama hadn’t come home yet. 

“You never play with me anymore!” She accuses, tears hot and angry. 

“Natsu,” he says, arms coming out around her to wrap her in a tight hug. She’s only 9, and she hadn’t understood the funeral. ‘ _ How can he be my dad when I don’t remember anything about him?’  _ the sentence that had mama biting her lips. 

She’d been a bit… clingier, since then. It’s only natural, probably. 

“You know the Inter-high is coming up,” he soothes. “I’m just busy for a few more days.” 

“That’s not what I mean!” She says, pulling herself from his hold. She doesn’t let him hold her hand when he drops her off at school, anymore. She’s a big girl now, and he feels his heart swell with pride when she says so, proudly and strong. 

“You’re so quiet, Shou-chan,” she sniffles. This is not true. He is as loud as always, the loud that has mama banging on his door and screaming to shut up. “You look so tired and quiet and I don’t like it!” 

Shouyou huffs. “I don’t know what you mean,” he lies. Back to his roots, really. Lies and lies. 

“Yes you  _ do _ !” Natsu says, slamming a wet finger in his face. Ew, boogers. 

Shouyou picks her up, holding her kicking legs away from his body adamantly. “I’m making tempura.” He says. “And I’ll watch  _ one  _ barbie movie with you. But only one!” 

Natsu sniffles loudly. She pouts. “Whatever.” Shouyou knows he’s won.

-

They lose the finals, playing five full sets to Date Tech. It’s a good game, keeping everyone on their toes for the entirety of its length. The last point is not a block- not even a spike. It’s a fluke if anything. Shouyou’s never felt so angry. 

“It’s your fault,” Kageyama says softly. The sun is setting and Shouyou’s face is crusted with tears. 

He hisses. “What the fuck?” No one makes him as mad as Kageyama. 

“You didn’t give it your all,” Kageyama says. He hates how composed he is, even when he dares to look at  _ him  _ and tell him he didn’t try  _ hard  _ enough. 

“So be mad.” 

Even Kageyama seems surprised by his answer. “So you know?” Now he looks mad. Kageyama storms up to him. “You know you’re  _ fucking  _ half-assing it?”

Shouyou grabs his hand- currently grabbing his sweaty collar. “I’m not.” He spits vehemently. Lies. 

“Liar!” This is the other version of Kageyama’s anger- the kind that cares. The kind that sinks its teeth into the juncture of your shoulder and is intent on sucking all the bad up. 

Shouyou punches him in the face.

Fuck. 

-

“Are you going to get better?” Kageyama says. It’s night time and Shouyou is nursing a dripping bloody nose, threatening to dip into his mouth. It’s gross- but he’s too tired and sore to move. He can already see the bruises that will blossom on his body tomorrow, flowering in bright purples and fading to piss yellows. He’s gonna have a hell of a time hiding it from ma. 

Shouyou doesn’t say anything. 

Realistically, they still have the Spring tournament. They still have time.

But he is 17 and sick and tired and  _ half-crazy.  _ And it feels like the end of the world.

“Do you  _ want  _ to?” Kageyama says, after too many minutes of silence. 

Shouyou turns his head- ouch. Kageyama looks up at the sky, and in a way, he’s kind of pretty. Shouyou got him pretty good right in the eye, which is already swelling. Ennoshita is going to kill them. His lip is split. The stars look like they have spilled from the night sky into his eyes. 

Does he want to. Does he want to?

It’s a funny question. 

-

“-and he asked if I want to.” Shouyou murmurs. 

Takashi leans on his knees, chin in his hand as he squints. “Yeah, I see how that’s weird.” 

“Right?” Shouyou throws his hands up. “It’s so weird. I mean-”

“No, it’s weird that you didn’t answer it.” Takashi cuts him off.

Shouyou falters. “What?”

“Well, it’s kind of a simple answer to a complicated question type thingy, right?” Takashi twiddles his thumbs. “Like- the idea of getting better is a loaded one, that would take like  _ BWAAHHH  _ amounts of work and stuff. But the step towards that is simple. All you gotta do is say yes.” 

Shouyou blinks. “But… I don’t know.”

“Don’t know what?” Takashi fixes him with a pointed stare. 

“Don’t know if I- I mean…” what is it, what is it,  _ what is it, _ “like, I don’t know how to-”

“Wrong!” Takashi nails him on the head. Ouch! “Wrong answer.” 

“Hey!” Shouyou thinks he preferred the nightmares to whatever the hell this is. “That can’t have a wrong answer, you asked for  _ my  _ opinion.”

“You forget, I’m  _ also  _ you,” Takashi says, smirking. “So I know what the answer is.” 

“You don’t,” Shouyou says stubbornly. 

“Ugh. Think about it like… if you’re the liar, then I’m the truth.” 

Shouyou’s forehead wrinkles. “I’m- I’m not a liar,” he starts, but Takashi greets him with another knuckle sandwich. 

“As a liar would say!” 

Shouyou growls. “Dude-”

“C’mon. I know what you’re going to say and what you’ve already said,” Takashi smiles sweetly. What a disgusting sight. “So if you just come out and say it, I could help you.” 

Shouyou makes the zipping motion with his finger. 

Takashi rolls his eyes. “You’re so annoying.”

\- 

“Are you going to say it?” Takashi is badgering him every night now. 

“You know, I’d get a lot better if you just let me actually sleep,” Shouyou grumbles. 

“You’re sleeping,” Takashi says brightly. “In all the ways that matter, at least.” 

-

“Are you gonna say it?”

-

He’s benched today, because he can’t stop slamming the ball out of bounds. He throws his jacket on the ground and storms out. No need to be at a practice that won’t help him.

-

“Are you gonna say it?”

-

Shouyou stays home because he doesn’t feel like this is his body, and his hands don’t feel like they are Shouyou’s. Every time he blinks he can see that alcohol-stained smile. 

He should be over it. 

-

“Are you gonna say it?”

-

Two weeks into this mess, Shouyou decides he can’t take it anymore. 

He growls, slamming his hands down on the floor. “God! I don’t even know what I’m lying about!” He snarls, looking up at Takashi. Bastard- always smiling serenely like it’s easy. 

“That’s a lie  _ too! _ ” He sing-songs. 

Shouyou wants to curl up and die. He truly is exhausted. 

Ennoshita hadn’t let the loss deter them in the slightest. They’d upped the training hours- Karasuno is going to nationals, again,  _ again _ . Suzuki-san’s store only brings in more patrons every day. Shouyou is going to an early grave. 

“Listen, if you’re me, why can’t you just say it?” 

Takashi smiles. He towers over him today, standing from the old wooden chair with a squeak. Shouyou shrinks back.

-

Natsu likes Yachi best of all, out of every member of the Karasuno Boys Volleyball team Shouyou has brought over to his humble home. 

Natsu runs up to the blonde girl, jumping straight into her arms as Yachi slips off her shoes and sets down her bag. “Hi, Nacchan!” Yachi coos brightly, swaying slightly under the weight. 

“Natsu,” Shouyou says, “You have to say ‘Hi’ first,” 

“Oh come on, Hinata-kun,” Yachi tuts. “It’s just Natsu, it’s fine.” 

“Yeah Shocchan,” Natsu says, rolling her big eyes. “You suck.” 

He sticks out his tongue. 

It’s a half-hour later when Yachi manages to peel Natsu off her and they head up to his room, to work try and work on some English homework- heavy emphasis on  _ try _ . Once Yachi and Shouyou get yapping, there’s no stopping them. Actually, Yachi had her very first detention (much to her horror), when she just couldn’t wait a few more minutes to tell Shouyou about the  _ super-duper  _ hot girl that plays saxophone she’s lab partners with. A whole two days’ worth. 

Yachi-san had not been happy. Even angrier was Ennoshita- who bemoaned the loss of their hard-working and disciplined manager, making him run five more laps to promise to stay out of trouble. That lasted all of a week.

They get twenty minutes into deciphering a poem before Shouyou gives, flopping back onto his bed. Yachi laughs quietly. 

“Quicker than usual,” she notes with a raised eyebrow. “What’s up?”

Shouyou rolls over and groans into his mattress. “Nothing.” 

Yachi hums expectantly. 

“It’s just,” and she laughs like she was waiting for it. “Stupid bakayama and his stupid face that’s being nice to me all of a sudden. I don’t understand.” 

Yachi looks surprised. “Um… you’re annoyed because he’s being  _ nice  _ to you?”

“Yeah!” Shouyou explodes. “Like, what’s his angle? Is he trying to beat me at being nice- because he can’t, he almost jumped Tsukishima yesterday because he looked at his serve weird.” 

Yachi nods. “That was  _ so  _ funny, though,”

She’s right. It was hilarious. Tanaka got a video.

“Still! We literally just beat each other up, and then he comes back after two days and is suddenly so nice? And he’s been, like, keeping it up for a whole month!” 

Yachi places down her papers gently. “Um. Hinata- don’t take this wrong-” 

“What?” 

She twirls her hair, suddenly looking bashful. “Um… well, you haven’t exactly been...  _ well _ , recently, you know?”

Shouyou feels his stomach drop out of his asshole. It’s like- it’s like constipation after a large double shot espresso coffee. He sweats- he thinks he’s stunned. 

“Not that! Not that you’ve been playing bad, or like doing bad or whatever you’re like, totally great!” Yachi waves her hands in front of her face, panicking. “But everyone knows you haven’t been sleeping like at all, and you always look so sad now- but like we totally love you, and everything’s fine-” 

“Wait.” His mouth is dry. “Everyone? What do you mean by… everyone?” 

Yachi scratches the back of her head. “Hinata,” she says gently. “Even the teachers know. Why do you think Akanami-sensei gave you a _ two-week _ extension?”

Shouyou blinks. The sun is suddenly too loud- he feels like he can hear it exploding a million times- ah. That’s just the blood in his ears. He swallows. 

“There’s nothing to know.” He says harshly. “I’m literally, like, fine.” 

Yachi’s eyebrows wrinkle. “Okay,” she says gently. 

“It’s not like I would ever hide anything. Or whatever. I have no reason to. So I can’t be sick.” 

Yachi looks down, suddenly enamored by the pleats of her skirt. It’s fascinating, isn’t it? The way the folds fall perfectly, crisp linen that ceases to crease even after years of washes? Such an interesting material. “Well, you were sick for almost 4 months straight.” She murmurs. 

“Wha- that was so long ago! I can’t control being  _ sick _ !” He didn’t eat, he didn’t sleep, he skipped rest days because he had to leave the house and run until there was nothing in his brain anymore,

“Don’t get all defensive, now,” Yachi says tiredly. “I’m not trying to attack you, Shou-kun. We’re just worried.” 

Shouyou bites his lip. “Well,” he bites. “There’s nothing to be worried about.” He’s an open book. He’s a teenage boy that wears his heart on his sleeve, and loves too hard and too much. There’s never been anything wrong in his head save for muddled math equations. 

“Okay, okay,” Yachi replies, falling back to that disgustingly gentle, pitying tone. He thinks there is only one thing he hates more than being underestimated because of his height. “Let’s get back to this poem, yeah?” 

-

“So,” Takashi says, picking at his nails. “I think we both know what I’m going to ask.”

-

We are our own main characters- all of us. You, who thinks you are the side character to your best friend, you, who floats past life like a feather in the wind, you, who sits in the back of classes and raises your hand just enough to fly right under the teacher’s radar. You with perfect grades in mediocre classes. 

The harsh reality, of a main character, is when we come to the realization of our flaws. We see our ugliest, dirtiest, parts, and we want to patch them up clean and cute. A Hello-Kitty sticker over a third-degree burn. Quickly, so we can move on with our plot. Meet our love interest and with it, carry along a demon that hangs off your shoulders, spitting, biting, hurting. 

“You cannot love another until you love yourself.” Bullshit, we say. But isn’t it true?

Enter Hinata Shouyou. The main character, but only when it counts. 16-  _ well _ , 17 here. He’s short, but that’s only an obstacle to others. He’s bright and clever. He’s lovable and sweet. He’s determined and strong. He wants to play volleyball.

Is that it? Is that all you have to make of him?

Isn’t he  _ selfish _ , always digging his heels into the ground and demanding more, more, more  _ more more more _ with a snarl and a hiss? Isn’t he  _ greedy _ , standing at the top of the volleyball world, on top of all these pawns, side-characters to his larger than life personality, and glancing over it all and thinking about what’s next? Isn’t he a  _ stupid little boy _ , that lets his body fall to the ground with a thud because he can’t find it in that large heart to fix himself up?

Isn’t he a  _ liar _ , just like he was when he was eight and scared and angry? Isn’t he a  _ coward _ , that can’t face a mirror and look at his sleep-deprived eyes, haunting and deep- cheeks, gaunt and hollow- and realize. He needs a little help, right now? 

Ah, to be a main character. 

We could leave this here, you know? Life is not easy, and life is not kind. Some of us find a hole to burrow into and stay there, because outside of this warm dirt is the unknown, and we are scared. Maybe Hinata Shouyou never learns to take care of himself. Maybe Hinata Shouyou never plays more volleyball. Maybe Hinata Shouyou becomes the main character of a certain slice-of-life manga, forever existing as the troubled grocery store cashier. Maybe Hinata Shouyou learns to give up. 

-

Everyone knows, now. 

-

“Yeah,” Shouyou mumbles. “I think I’m a little sick. I think I need help- no, I want some. I want to… be better. Get better.” 

Takashi cocks his head. “ _ There _ it is.”

-

“Toss to me,” Shouyou says. His mouth tastes like dirt. His eyes hang with fatigue. It’s raining today- and he thinks it’s ironic. The day he’s supposed to start getting better, and it’s dark and cloudy. Figures. 

Kageyama bites his lip. “Okay,” 

They walk to the mountain together, even though Shouyou has his bike and Kageyama lives the opposite way. Kageyama emanates heat, and he finds himself leaning closer to the taller boy. “I’m going to my first therapy appointment today,” Shouyou says. The noise of Kageyama’s straw in the milk box stops- just for the barest second. Then, it resumes. 

“Okay,” Kageyama finally says. 

Shouyou rolls his eyes. “What?” He demands, angrily. “You’re not going to say anything else? Asshole.” 

Kageyama juts out his lip. “Whatever.” 

Shouyou snorts. Emotionally-constipated asshole. 

“ _ I’mproudofyou _ ,” Kageyama coughs. 

Shouyou blinks. Takes a breath in. “What did you say,” he says, a smile slowly curving around his lips. 

Oh god, you should see it. Kageyama’s face is a bright cherry-red. “Nothing.” He bites. 

Shouyou stops. And laughs. 

It’s so gross, really- it’s kind of a wet laugh,  _ ew _ , the kind that has your sides hurting and your eyes burning. He thinks snot drips from his nose- yep, nasty. He doesn’t even process that Kageyama’s barking at him to  _ stop  _ slowly fades to silly giggles as well. 

Right at the base of Miyagi Mountain, Shouyou feels a little fuller.

-

“Nice to meet you, Hinata-kun,” Dr. Suzumeda says kindly. 

He feels like the fluorescent lightbulbs are boring into his skin, imprinting their patterns into his eyes. It’s so bright. The chair is stiff- he moves forward, squeaking it against the floor, once, twice. It doesn’t help. 

The dry air sucks the moisture from his skin. What he’d give for some of Yachi’s favorite lotion right now- the answer is anything, actually. He twiddles his thumbs, and the rough sound of skin tapping skin seems to reverberate against the walls, echoing back at him, that This Is Wrong. It’s not- he wants to be here. But it doesn’t-

“I’m Dr. Suzumeda, and I’m a child psychiatrist,” she says, kindly. All types of nice and sweet and cheerful. “How about we get to know each other a little bit before talking about what’s been bothering you?” 

_ ‘Bothering,’  _ Shouyou wants to scream. It’s not a bother, it’s a debilitating, slow crumble of everything that he is and wants to be, the only thing between him and  _ anything _ . What the fuck. 

“That sounds good,” is what he says instead. 

Dr. Suzumeda smiles kindly. “I went to Keio University and got my doctorate from there as well. I have two kids- a daughter, around your age, actually! My younger son is six now. My wife and I live right outside of Tokyo, though I choose to work in Sendai. I like to cook in my free time, and my family loves to hike.” Dr. Suzumeda is nice. She has a nice life.

Shouyou nods. “That sounds nice,” he says offhandedly because he is polite like mama raised him to be. “I play volleyball,” he adds. She did say get to know each other. 

She nods. And waits. 

Oh. She’s waiting for the rest. 

Shouyou rocks back in his seat. “Um,” his hands come to grip his knees. “I like being with my friends,” he says. “And uh- that’s it, really.” 

Dr. Suzumeda frowns. How does she still manage to make it look kind? Irrationally, Shouyou maybe wants to throw the chair across the room. It squeaks under his weight. “What do you like to do with your friends?” She presses. 

“Play volleyball…”

“What about in your free time? What do you like to do?” 

“Um.. play volleyball-”

“Alright, then what about  _ in  _ school?”

“That’s- that’s actually where I play-”

Dr. Suzumeda sighs. She’s frustrated, isn’t she? It’s only been about fifteen minutes. “Hinata-kun,” she says, kindly. “Your mother filled me in on a few details- you have had to adjust to a lot of  _ harsh  _ circumstances, right? It’s important to participate in several activities because children often box themselves into one pursuit.” Her straight black hair falls in front of her shoulder, brushing the side of her face. He thinks it looks fake. 

Shouyou bits his tongue. Maybe he’ll draw blood- that would be good. “Uh,” he’s not going to blow up, he’s not going to blow up, “I just need to eat and sleep again. I’m going to keep playing volleyball but it’s just that other stuff.” 

Dr. Suzumeda blinks, stunned. “You… can’t eat or sleep?” She says, eyebrows furrowing. “Uh, your mom didn’t mention that.” 

Mistake. Abort abort abort-

Dr. Suzumeda folds her hands. “Hinata-kun,” she says. “Why don’t we start again.”

-

Ichika Suzumeda has met a number of children all across the board. As a child psychiatrist, she works with children with ASD to children with learning disabilities. She’s had tough cases, cases that have her shaking next to her wife at night. She’s had forthcoming, easy to work with children. Each in their own is an enigma. 

Childhood- all of it, really- is a blessing to observe. Even as she nears her fifties, leaving those sweet years with soft kisses behind, she has the privilege of seeing it happen before her eyes- with her kids, all of them. The only thing she really wants for these kids is to see them blossom before their eyes, before what society may deem as a ‘disorder’ comes to hurt them every day. 

It’s true evil when these years are snatched. To her understanding, if there is one thing we deserve in this wretched world, it is ignorance. 

She opens the file entitled Hinata, Shouyou with a heavy sigh. His mother seems to be normal at a glance- worried, questioning- albeit quite young for a teenage son. His father seems to not be in the picture at all. Younger sister. Moved to Miyagi just coming up on 5 years ago. 

He goes to Karasuno High School, she notes. Wonders if that old bag is still the vice-principal.

The weighted pen glides over the paper. Shaking hands, tired eyes, sunken cheeks- signs of malnourishment. He said he couldn’t eat- keyword,  _ couldn’t-  _ a depressive funk? But, he brought up possible insomnia- and a quick click on his medical chart confirms it, seems insomnia seems to run in the family. 

There had been something interesting when she’d brought up his family, his life. It seemed as if his hands had stilled, and the glass in his eyes had coated over- like he’d stepped out, for a second. 

Curious.

-

“Kageyama!” Shouyou yells, waving manically across the street. They’re hanging out today- at his own behest that Kageyama is a total weirdo that never leaves his house or the court. 

They’re supposed to meet at the cafe, at 2:00- because Suzumeda-san has him on a strict routine where right after lunch, he has to write in his dumb little journal for at least 30 minutes- and free time is only after. The phrase ‘Free Time’ has him reeling- how does one go from a fully functioning 17-year-old to a toddler in two months? Maybe he should just go back to the Shouyou before therapy.

To add insult to injury, Shouyou is on a mandated volleyball break. Volleybreak. For like, a whole  _ week _ . He’s never had such an utterly, boring, useless week. He should have never let Suzumeda-san and Mama talk- because they put their evil heads together to create this special circle of hell, just for Shouyou. Look, it has a mini-fridge and everything!

So, he will take the next best thing- hanging out with a volleyball nut. 

“Tell me everything,” Shouyou demands, pulling out the chair at the cafe beside him. Kageyama rolls his eyes. 

“Buy me my bread first.” 

Shouyou exhales loudly. “Stingy,” he mutters, digging out his pitiful wallet and waving down a waitress- ooh, awkward, he knows her- and letting Kageyama stammer out his order. 

“You know,” Shouyou says loudly, “it’s customary for  _ rich  _ kids to pay for these types of things!”

Kageyama shoves his head down- at least tries to. “I’m not a rich kid, dumbass, and  _ you  _ invited me!”

“So rude to make your date pay, Kageyama-kun, you better not be doing this to your girlfriends-”

“Date?!” Kageyama demands, and oh- oh, his face is bright red. Shouyou frowns. “This is not- no way this is- dumbass, dumbass Hinata,” Kageyama stammers, face flushing with every inflection of his voice, which moves higher and higher- ah, the treasures of high school. 

“I hope not,” Shouyou says, laughing. “I wouldn’t really want to date you either, Kageyama.”

Kageyama dips his head low. “Good.” He snarls. He wrenches the menu out of Shouyou’s hands. “I want another yakisoba bun.” 

Shouyou gasps. “No way!” He pulls his coin purse back, clutching the handle like an old woman. “This is for new shoes, not for your obsession with buns.”

“Don’t make me sound pervy.”

“You’re the one who made it pervy!” 

“Okay, pervert-”

“Shut up!”

“Perverted, horndog-”

“Shut UP!” 

-

“Hello,” Shouyou speaks first today. Usually, Takashi gets the jump on him- not today. He sits, criss-cross, like a child on the first day of kindergarten, peering up at the man sat on the wooden chair. 

“Shouyou,” Takashi says, softly, gently. “It’s been a while, right?” 

“Yeah,” he chirps back. “I got prescribed some melatonin, so I kinda sleep better now-”

“Do you get it now?” Takashi says. He’s looking anywhere but him. 

“Do I… Do I what?”

Takashi breathes out of his nose harshly. “Do you understand? What’s happening?”

“To… to me?” 

An imperceptible nod. 

Does Shouyou understand? It’s been said, understanding yourself is something you can never get- close, but never all the way. 

It’s been months since he felt his legs snap under him, felt his knees slam against the hard gym floors with a deafening thud. It’s been months since he spent weeks with his head swimming, half-assing everything because he couldn’t even pull it together to make dinner. 

What would he accomplish, even? If he understood why he couldn’t and why he must? A problem- you can’t eat. The solution? You make yourself eat. But you’re Shouyou, and it’s like god themselves took the chopstick out of your hand and cemented it against the desk. 

Takashi quirks his eyebrow. “Do you?” 

Shouyou wakes up. 

-

A month to Spring Nationals and Shouyou thinks he understands why people get high. Because the last year must be what people with volleyball feel like- sad and floaty and when your head gets all swimmy like GWAHHH and you can’t really do what you want to do. 

But see, Shouyou is better now. Because he has a therapist and a strict routine and an even stricter Ma- who rolled back her shifts at the hospital just so she can be home by eight and rip him a new one if she sees a skipped meal. Because he has a little sister that absolutely won’t let him zone off in his room for longer than like, two seconds, and he has the team that would help him hide a body, and the best friends he’s ever had. 

He can still chase his dream. 

So yeah, he’s here. He’s on the court, and his shoes squeak against the floor- and really, nothing's gonna hurt him here. His palm stings- yeah, a perfect line shot- he’s on fire today. Tanaka’s spikes are like canons against his forearms, but he lifts it right back up into the air, high and tall like how Kageyama likes it. He commands it here. 

Shouyou wipes at the sweat on his forehead with the fluffy towel around his neck. “Woooh!” He crows, chasing down a drop of water. “That was so good, guys! Abe-kun, you killed those receives today!” 

Abe grins. “Thanks, Hinata-san!” Shouyou feels his entire body vibrate. To be called ‘san’ again. 

Yamaguchi casts an arm over his shoulder. “Look at you, Hinata,” he says. “Doling out praise, hyping up the team- what, trying to take Ennoshita-san’s spot?” 

Hinata blinks, then laughs. “It’d take a bit more than that, yeah?” 

Yamaguchi smiles. “I wouldn’t be too sure-”

“Okay!” Ukai says, pulling the whiteboard they’d gone over plays with out of view. “That’s enough for tonight- and I mean it, okay. Head home, right now!” he smacks the whiteboard with his hand, and Yachi- poor, sweet, Yachi, standing right beside him- jumps almost ten feet in the air. She’s really getting some distance on those. 

“Wait, Hinata- you stay back,” Ukai calls after his retreating back. Damn, the one time he leaves on time. 

“Hey,” Ukai says, awkward and unfitting. Like a puzzle piece out of place. 

“Hi,” Shouyou replies, shifting foot to foot. 

“Hello!” Takeda pops out from behind the wall, and Shouyou flies back. 

“Takeda-sensei,” he wheezes. “Warn someone next time, my god.” 

“Oh, my bad,” Takeda says, looking unapologetic. “So, Ukai-san had something to say?” 

Ukai casts him an evil glance- it seems to say, you’re dead meat- rubbing the back of his neck. “Um, Hinata- how are you doing?” He says gently. 

“Oh,” yeah, he was wondering when this talk would happen. “What did you hear?” he says, rocking on his toes. 

“Ah, not much, not much,” Ukai says, hands splayed out in front of him. “Just that… you were having a rough time lately. And I know you had a week break, and all those missed days from being sick this summer… so I just figured I’d ask, you know?” 

Gotta give credit where it’s due, Ukai looks positively ready to crawl out of his skin right now. He’s definitely a stronger man than most- physically gritting his teeth to keep from running out of the Awkward TM  of the situation. 

“It’s.” What should he say here? Not too much to worry them, not too little to cast doubt. “Just some problems at home. Don’t worry! Everything is going to work out!” he chirps. That’s right, sprinkle some Shouyou Positivity and cover up the ugly mess he’s made of things. 

“Okay,” Takeda says, after a few seconds of silence. “Just know you can come to us with anything, right? No judgment.” 

They caught on anyways. What a bother. “Of course!” He says, with a mock-salute, already half running to the bike rack. “Thank you, it’s a long ride home!” he yells over his shoulder, not bothering to look back. 

He’s better. He’s… he’s getting better. A few more months and he can leave therapy and continue on with his life as this past year had never even happened. It’s not his fault- even though it is. 

Shouyou huffs through the damp air. It’s worse making his way up this mountain in the summer. 

Okay. So it’s a little his fault. He can only do so much. The past is the past- he fucked up, bad, with himself, and he hurt some other people- but he needs to move on. Because he doesn’t want to look back at this, right?

Right. 

His bike settles in the gravel. He looks at the moon. 

“I’ll beat you too,” he announces.

To whom do you speak, Shouyou? 

-

“Can I ask you something? After practice.” Kageyama whispers while they sit in a huddled circle, watching Date Tech game footage from last year. They’re supposed to be comparing Kogane’s progress and Aone-san’s blocks to last years, and it’s a helpful exercise- except they’ve all done it on their own a million times this year. 

Shouyou shudders. Scary. “Sure,” he whispers back. “We can get buns,” he smiles. 

Kageyama rolls his eyes. “Perv-” 

Ennoshita catches their eye with a glare. 

An hour later, they walk side-by-side, watching the sun set and paint the sky. “What did you wanna ask?” Shouyou finally bites, the hot meat of the bun burning the roof of his mouth, just slightly. 

“Uh,” Kageyama says. “It’s kind of.... dumb.” He looks away. 

Shouyou laughs. “Okay?” 

“No really. It is.” Kageyama looks like he’s blushing again- he’s been doing that more often, recently. Weird. 

“Okay, dude-”

“Who did you kiss?” Kageyama blurts. Shouyou blinks owlishly. 

“Huh?” 

“When- at the thing, when we were all drunk- you were like. I don’t know. At Noya-san’s house you said- you know, you said-” 

“Ohhh, yeah!” Shouyou holds up a finger. “I don’t remember at all.” 

Kageyama snorts. “Nothing? You’re kidding.” His eyebrow furrows, and he stops at the side of the road. “Actually, that makes sense. We were pretty fucked up.” 

“Kageyama! Don’t say bad words.” 

He rolls his eyes. “That’s rich, coming from you.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean!” 

Shouyou lets his bike clatter to the ground. “ _ Waiiit _ . Why do you want to know about me kissing.” He scrunches his nose up. “That is pretty weird.” 

Kageyama backs up, against the rail of the street. “It’s- you don’t have the answer, dumbass-” 

“Do you have a crush?” Shouyou presses up near him. 

Kageyama sweats. “What?” 

“Oh my god.” Shouyou laughs in delight. “You have a crush! Emotionally constipated rock Kageyama has a crush!” 

Emotionally constipated rock flushes deeper. “You don’t need to-” 

“Who’s the lucky girl?” Shouyou whispers, glancing around. “I knew you were a little popular, but now that you have a love interest- I’m  _ not  _ gonna let you beat me-”

“Girl?” 

“Yeah,” Shouyou cocks his head. 

“Hinata. I’m  _ gay _ .” Kageyama deadpans, the red in his cheeks dissipating. “You’re so dumb, how did you not know that.” 

“No way!” Shouyou gasps. “That means that  _ all  _ of us are gay in some way. We can’t all be gay.” 

Kageyama sighs heavily. “I’ve never shown attraction to a girl ever.” He explains, slowly, as if speaking to a child.

“You’ve never shown attraction to  _ anyone  _ ever!”

Kageyama mumbles under his breath. 

“What was that?” 

“Nothing.” 

Shouyou rolls his eyes. Weirdo. “Anyways, I kissed a girl at my middle school because we dated for like a month. It was middle school, so I think I just licked her chin, really.” 

Kageyama clicks his tongue, turning his face away. “Wow, so you suck at kissing  _ too _ . Good to know.” His voice sounds funny.

“I do not! Hey- I don’t! Take that back!” 

-

“I can’t believe we’re having a second battle of the trash heap showdown,” Shouyou says into the phone, grinning. 

Kenma sighs on the other side. “I can’t believe we’re still calling it that lame ass name.” They say. 

“It is not!” 

“Is too.” 

Shouyou rolls over, onto his stomach, legs swinging back and forth behind him, “Whatever.” he grumbles. “Anything fun happen?” 

“I think Lev and Inuoka got in a fight.” They say tiredly. “Not even over volleyball, some girl they both have a crush on.” 

Shouyou raises his eyebrows. “Interesting.” 

“And stupid Kuroo won’t stop calling me in the middle of English. I’ve had my phone taken away at least six times this month.” 

Shouyou barks out a laugh. It would never stop surprising him what a softie Nekoma’s ex-captain was. 

“You?” Kenma says. 

Shouyou traces circles into his bedsheet. “Not much,” he trails off. “Dr. Suzumeda said she wants me to try out some… medicines.” 

Kenma hums. “And you don’t want to?” 

“Yeah,” Shouyou breathes. Kenma always understands him- even with the inflections of his voice, they always seem to know what’s up. 

“I think you should make your concerns known,” Kenma says, after a moment. “But I also think it would be good for you.” 

Straight to the chase with them. 

“Mhmm.” He’s not going to entertain that with an answer. Not right now. It’s been five whole good days in a row- he has his calendar marked with bright green smiley faces. No need for an angry red scribble today. “Do you know what bakayama was sniffing around me for yesterday?” 

-

Dr. Suzumeda wants to introduce him to the meds today. They’ve been working together for almost 3 months now- and she seems certain that this could be beneficial in ways just talking wouldn’t be. 

He catches sight of her notepad, quick as a flash, but enough for him to make out,  _ ‘memory-loss, flashbacks, insomnia, trouble keeping routines-‘  _ before she snatches it out of sight. 

“Do you want to hear your diagnosis, Hinata-kun?” She says, kindly. 

Shouyou huffs. “Okay.” He grumbles. This is too much. Everyone has had certain episodes, before, probably. Such a fuss. 

“I think we’re experiencing a case of childhood PTSS.” She says. “Post-Traumatic Stress Syndrome.” 

“I- I know what that is.” Shouyou’s mouth is dry. “Wha- Isn’t that for soldiers? And warriors?” 

Suzumeda-san smiles. “This can affect anyone who’s undergone traumatic circumstances. I know you aren’t keen on talking about your father- but there are certain symptoms that I consistently notice.” 

“It’s- it’s because I don’t remember,” Shouyou mutters. 

“Your father?” 

Shouyou nods, but she stops him. 

“Or you repressed the idea of him.” Suzumeda-san’s gaze turns sharp. “I have seen this case many times, Hinata-kun. You’re not alone. Does he appear to you in dreams? Behind your back, when you believe you’re alone?” 

Shouyou gapes. “Wha- How did you-?” 

Suzumeda-san takes grasp of his shaking hand. “It’s okay,” she whispers. “These things are normal. This is a type of medication called an SSRI. It can help calm you down, from times that you go back.” 

-

“We’re going to be third years,” Yamaguchi says lightly, snow falling around them in soft flurries. 

There’s two weeks to nationals- just two more weeks until Shouyou can stand on the court that destroyed him, and become better because of it. He can’t wait. 

“Yeah!” Shouyou says, thrumming with excitement. “How are you feeling about that,  _ captain _ ,” he grins devilishly. 

Yamaguchi blushes. “Nothing is set in stone yet.” He says abruptly. 

“Wait- yeah,” Yachi says. “Aren’t second-years supposed to vote on it? We still haven’t!” She panics. 

Tsukishima tuts. “Let’s just do it now. All in favor of Tadashi as captain, say aye.” 

“Aye!” Hinata chirps. 

“Aye!” Yachi cheers. 

“Aye,” Tsukishima mutters. 

The three of them turn to look at Kageyama- dutifully sipping from his milk box, determined to stare anywhere but their faces. 

“Hello.” Shouyou waves his hand in front of him. 

Kageyama tilts his head back and hums loudly. “Kageyama, you bastard-!” 

“Whatever, majority rules.” Tsukishima yawns. “Tadashi’s captain, whether or not the king wants him to be.” 

“Wait.” Yamaguchi’s face is red, but he stares down Kageyama- who’s still focused on an apparently very interesting road sign- and taps his shoulder to make him look down. “I want everyone on board. If we’re taking first place at nationals next year we’re all going to be on the same boat,” 

Kageyama’s eyes shine, and his lips purse. 

“-especially you, vice-captain.” Yamaguchi smiles. 

“Wait.” Tsukishima’s eyes go wide. “ _ Him?!  _ You want me to listen to him for a year?” 

Shouyou laughs, hollow. “Yeah, really, I think Kageyama would scare off all the first-years with his scary smile.” Listen, they’re best friends- but you gotta admit, you wouldn’t choose Kageyama Tobio‘s smile to be the face of a club. 

“No. It’s gotta be you, or I won’t do it.” Yamaguchi’s voice cuts through the snow. Yachi gapes, mouth slowly curving. “You know this team better than any of us, even if you don’t say it out loud. I need you by my side.” 

Kageyama takes the milk box out of his mouth. He glares off into the snow, fixating on anywhere but Yamaguchi’s face.

“Aye.” 

-

Takashi visits him once more. His smirk seems to fall off- and once again, Shouyou wonders which version of  _ him _ he is- because he really doesn’t see it. If he were in the mood to joke, he’d mentioned he was the more handsome one.

It’s been almost a week of full-sleep; something that seems to hurt more than days and days of restless nights, waking every other hour. It’s almost like a full 8-10 hours can make him more tired. 

Takashi snaps. “You’re not going to need me anymore, huh?” He muses. 

Shouyou blinks. “Maybe. I don’t think I ever needed you.” 

Takashi stares at the ground. “Isn’t that the truth.” 

Shouyou hums. The sooner he’s rid of the other he’s happy- Takashi is prone to mood swings. What a tiresome friendship he’s created in his head. 

“Can I tell you something?” Takashi says. “Something you will never forget?”

Shouyou nods. Sure. 

“I’m sorry,” Takashi mutters. “You’ll get why, one day. Maybe.” 

-

“Hey, Natsu,” Shouyou says, looking down in a panic. “This comes off, right?”

Natsu continues painting his nails bright hot pink. “Hmm,” she mutters. 

“Was that a yes?” Oh man, Tsukishima is going to have a field day with this. 

Natsu hums. “Why would you want to ever take this off?” Her eyes glitter maliciously. 

Shouyou sighs, looking at his left hand resignedly. Damn. “You couldn’t have done this on mama?” He huffs. 

Natsu glares up at him. “No!” She hollers, right in his face. “Mama won’t let me.” 

“Okay, okay,” Shouyou knows when he’s fighting a lost cause. Plus the polish is actually kind of cute- so fuck Tsukishima. He can pull this off. 

Natsu’s latest dream and demand of the future is to be a nail technician- the best in the world  _ ever _ , mind you- and she’s long since decided her older brother would be the perfect dummy to practice on. It’s a new dream, so Shouyou’s poor nails have only been assaulted once thus far, but he has a feeling this is going to be a long process.

“Step two, talk to your patients,” Natsu mutters, reading the wikiHow article from her tablet. Patients-? When did they start playing hospital? Shouyou should probably run before Natsu whips out the scalpel. The last time she decided she was going to be a surgeon did not go so well. 

“So, Shou-chan,” Natsu says diplomatically. “What are your greatest fears?” 

“Maybe we should dial the talking points back a little,” Shouyou chuckles. Natsu was a little like him that way- never one to fool around. 

“No.” 

Shouyou laughs. “Okay,” he can humor her. She’s only 9. “I think… spiders, monsters, and… orange-haired little girls!” He pushes Natsu to the ground with his free hand, tickling her in the stomach. 

“Shou!” She cackles, arms and legs waving manically. “Stop it! Stop!” A stray arm hits him in the face- ouch, that’s going to bruise. He falls on his back with an  _ oomph _ . 

“I’m running a business,” Natsu says seriously, the effect lost with the way she’s still gasping for breath. “I’m going to put you on the no-nails list.” 

“Oh noooo! Natsu-san. Please don’t!” Shouyou mocks. 

“-But, because I am so kind and nice and really cool, I will finish your other hand first.” Natsu finishes. 

Natsu snatches his hand back to the cardboard it previously sat on. “So, Hinata-san.” She continues. “The weather, huh?” 

Shouyou huffs a laugh. “So true. It’s crazy out there.” There’s light snow dusting the ground, but the sun shines brightly upon all of Miyagi. They haven’t had clouds in ages. 

Natsu smiles brightly. “And the economy, right!” 

Shouyou has to bring a hand to his shaking stomach. “Yep!” He wonders where she learned that word.

“It’s economic.” Natsu nods seriously. Troubling times. 

“You’re all grown up now, Shou-chan.” Natsu says. 

Shouyou blinks- that came out of nowhere. “What do you mean?” 

“You’re so much more seriouser. Yesterday you didn’t even bring me meat buns because it was too late!” Natsu laments. “It was so… not bwahh. More like.  _ Wahhh _ .” 

Shouyou blinks again, stunned. Oh no. He’s become... He’s become  _ wahhh _ . 

“Do you really think that, Natsu?” He says. 

Natsu looks at him with big, bright, brown eyes. She nods. 

“AHH!” He jumps up. “You’re right. I  _ have  _ been seriouser- but that’s dumb and I don’t want to.” He gestures to his shoulder, leaning down to kneel on the ground. “C’mon. We’re going to go make trouble somewhere.”

“Woooh!” Natsu cheers. “Let’s go!” She’s about the clamber onto his back- but stops abruptly. “Shou-chan,” she says tightly. “You’re going to ruin your nail polish.” 

-

The day before nationals, Shouyou has the fleeting thought that this shouldn’t be this easy. Not that it ever was- he’s struggled, spent hours gagging, to get to this point where he can stand on his legs without shaking, looking the mirror without blanching- but still. There should be more, shouldn’t it? 

His mama tucks him in tonight. She comes home early because no one will be there to drop Natsu off at school tomorrow, since he’s leaving at 5 in the morning. She presses a soft kiss to his forehead. 

He finds himself wondering,  _ ‘Who cares?’  _ Maybe he’s the luckiest, most privileged little boy ever, that he could overcome this and carry out his dream. He sure hopes so. That would be nice. 

This is it, here tomorrow. He’s going to stand on his own two legs. 

-

They make it almost half-way through, this year. 

Day Three Hell didn’t get its name for nothing. Shouyou almost tiptoes around the arena, terrified to slip up again, and lose it just like he’s been steadily doing so for a year- but it’s nothing to worry,  _ almost _ . He feels in top-shape all three days, new meds effectively broken in so he’s not dizzy and pissing himself every five minutes. 

Suzumeda-san’s crazy schedule ends up helping, eventually. The routine is comforting- as he wakes before everyone else to sit in the cool air and sit down, asking himself how he is today. Is it a bad day? Is it a good day? How do you feel, knees? Shoulders? 

Even the rigid diet is easy and comfortable. He can swallow it down without the earlier fear of just puking it right back out. 

But at the end of it, Inarizaki gets their rightful vengeance. Playing the Miya twins in their third year was almost impossible. 

It’s different this year. 

They lost. Barely brushed that top 16. An utter loss. 

But that bitter sting doesn’t leave him floored like last year. It doesn’t feel like it’s consuming his inside, and he feels like he’s okay anyway. 

Ukai brings him food this year as well. He knows it’s important. He takes a bite.

He’s mad. He cries. They all cry- especially Ennoshita, with the cool composure and easy smile- who breaks down and tells them _ ‘thank you for the greatest season ever’ _ . 

But somehow, it’s not like the end of the world. Somehow. He exchanges numbers with Atsumu. Karausno sings loud songs on the bus. They sit and reflect on what they’ll do next time. 

Yes. Next time. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im. exhausted from this chapter. it literally took my bone marrow and teeth and crushed them into finely ground chalk. so TIRED. this killed me dead god. anyways friendly reminder ptsd can come from any form of trauma and you are valid! i wanted to lay the tragedy lightly but tbh I feel like all the memory loss and stilted childhood really makes sense in the way Hinata's character grows so quickly but knows so little? if that makes sense. 
> 
> next chapter is the last


	4. who you will be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe there's never going to be an end to all this- but god help him, he's never going to stop trying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: vivid dreams, mentions of self-harm

_ Correct. You see it all. Do you understand? _

_ Do I understand? _

-

“Noya-san!” Shouyou cries.

Let it be known, Shouyou is an ugly crier. Always has been, always will be. His eyes well up like springs and his entire face flushes an ugly red, and his nose puffs up too, for some reason. 

“Tanaka-san!” He sobs. He pounces on the two, smashing them together into a tight hug. He’s made it to 5’7, now, so he looms over Noya, dripping snot and tears onto his shirt. Noya’s ear, full of piercings, catches in his hair. 

Graduation is always a sad event. He’s cried at every graduation he’s ever had (save fourth and fifth grade, he wasn’t there). He probably cried the worst in eighth grade, but the most were definitely last year. 

“Hinata,” Yamaguchi says, pulling Shouyou away by the collar. “Really, they’re not even going to college, they’re going to be around all the time,” 

“Still!” Shouyou whines. “We’re not on the same team anymore!” 

“Shouyou!” Noya and Tanaka roar. They’re crying too- the only reason Shouyou doesn’t look like a  _ complete  _ fool here. 

Ennoshita sighs and Shouyou spins around, tears following. “And you guys too!” He hollers, pulling Kinoshita and Narita in for a tight hug as well. “I’m going- I’m going to miss you,” He gasps, between hiccups. “So much!” 

“There, there,” Narita says awkwardly, patting Shouyou’s back. 

He doesn’t know graduation always makes him cry so bad. He’s been used to saying goodbye since he was little- but maybe it’s the entire show of it. The idea of moving on, rather than moving away. 

Yachi bursts into tears and she leans up on her tiptoes to hug Tanaka. They’d developed a really close friendship this year- entirely expected, may he add. They’re perfect personalities together. Kiyoko-san stands near them, having taken the day off from work to pick high school graduate Tanka up for a date. She flashes him a wry smile, and Shouyou rubs his red face with the back of his hand. 

“You okay?” she says, softly. 

“Yeah,” Shouyou answers stuffily. “Yeah, today is good.” 

-

Funnily enough, Shouyou’s greatest concern has never been his height. He’s always been on the shorter, skinner, side- effects of malnourishment for the majority of his youth, mama would say sadly- but it rarely hinders him past volleyball. His _ freaky athletic abilities _ that Kageyama would curse usually came in clutch when Tsukishima would get the jump on him over the net. He doesn’t even really care when they tease him for it- because trust that he’s armed with an arsenal of pain. Tsukishima won’t know what hit him. 

Really, the only time it’s ever bothered him is when  _ girls  _ are around. 

The romance factor has been seriously lacking in Shouyou’s life. He went on a few dates with this boy a year ahead of him last year, and he had a car which was _really_ cool, especially for some more _fun_ activities. Ultimately it hadn’t worked out, but they’d both had fun- going their separate ways with a silly wave. Noya and Tanaka teased him about smooching the school pretty boy for about two days until they forgot, and weirdyama almost popped like three volleyballs. It was over in less than three months.

Even more than that, he hasn’t had a real crush in  _ sooooo  _ long. It’s so boring! He almost misses the ugly butterflies that would flood his throat, back when he was crushing hard on Aoi-chan in his third year of middle school before he summoned the guts to ask her out. The closest feeling he has to that is when he’s hanging out just Kageyama, and he maneuvers himself around to burp in his face after he tells him he sucks. The animosity is great. 

And worst of all- he thinks mama is  _ dating _ . The mere thought of it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. He needs to buff up a little to scare this man away- although he’s sure mama can take care of it anyways. Continuous night shifts in the Nagoya hospital teach you how to kill a man in five different ways. 

It’s not a big deal, anyway, all this love shit. His and Suzumeda-san’s sessions have almost come to a close, and she’s been having him narrow his focus. His health, his family, and volleyball. Important things. 

He’s been better, really. The months between- January to April- have been spent rehabilitating his psyche, or whatever. They’ve worked through whatever confusing memories ricochet through his brain and the vivid dreams that paint his eyelids. He chases Natsu’s tiny demons she calls friends around the park. Mama brings home pretty flowers and then goes back out to buy a vase because they apparently don’t have one. 

April and the beginning of the school year come slow and sticky, like the dripping popsicles that paint his and Yachi’s hands as they wander the shopping center. 

“Yachiiii,” Shouyou groans. “We have walked past this storefront six times.” 

“Come on, come on, just a few more times,” she hisses, yanking his arm. “I  _ know  _ she works here.” 

It seems to never leave him, the fever of spring lust. He and Yachi have dragged their feet past the ice cream store almost six times, hoping to catch the eye of the really,  _ really  _ cute girl Yachi has been flustered over for the past two weeks. 

“Why can’t you just talk to her like a normal person?” Shouyou curses. “Cowardice,” he says, shaking his head ashamedly. 

“Yup, exactly,” Yachi mutters. “And that’s the way it’s going to stay.” 

Shouyou rolls his eyes, stepping forward right into a white t-shirt- and flinching back as a cool sticky fluid runs right down the side of his head. 

“What-?” 

“Oh no! I’m so sorry,” a girl says, eyes wide as she looks around wildly for paper towels. “I really need to watch where- I mean, I just got off a shift here, and I wasn’t looking-” 

“It’s okay!” Yachi pipes up between them. 

Shouyou furrows his brow. Well- obviously, he’s only going to say it’s okay, he can’t say otherwise- but still, not Yachi’s place to say so. He blinks up at the girl and  _ yeesh _ , she’s tall. Tall with light, long brown hair, and sparkling dark eyes. Her skin is tanned, and her lips curl around white teeth. Damn. She’s just Yachi’s type. 

Wait. 

He looks at Yachi, a grin starting to form, and she catches his eye.  _ ‘That’s her!’  _ She screams with her eyes. 

“Yup!” Shouyou chirps, hands lifting the hem of his shirt to wipe at the ice cream in his hair. “It’s totally fine- but you got some on you  _ too- _ ” 

“Yeah, and I could totally help you get some of it off- and it’s my responsibility to, actually, because, um, yeah,” Yachi says, already shuffling the unsuspecting girl towards the bathroom. 

“Oh, uh, okay?” The girl says, looking down. “I mean- I can get it off, you don’t need to-” 

“No. I do.” 

Shouyou exhales through his nose.  _ ‘They would be a cute couple,’  _ he muses, looking at Yachi gently pull the other through the crowd. He feels a sting of jealousy in his stomach. 

Hmm. Maybe he does care a little. 

-

“So, I have a dream sometimes, where like,” Shouyou presses his thumbs together. 

“Take your time,” Suzumeda-san says, kindly. Kindly, kindly,  _ kindly _ . There was a time Shouyou felt that kind voice sicken him to his core, carve through his insides like a knife coated in sugar. It kind of calms him now. 

“Yeah,” Shouyou says, sniffing loudly. “I’m like- okay, I’m like in a forest. Real big.” He opens his palms to demonstrate. 

Suzumeda-san nods. 

“And it’s empty, except for me, right. But I hear whispers and scratches even though nothing’s there.” 

She gestures at him to continue. 

“Yeah, so like I continue walking because I know no one’s there. But then a vine catches my foot, and I can’t continue going.

“And then, I’m on fire. And I feel like I’m on fire too like I can’t breathe because of the smoke and shit and my skin is burning and everything is choking me, and then I wake up.”

Suzumeda-san raises an eyebrow. “And you’ve been having this dream for weeks now?” 

Shouyou nods. “Yeah, and I tried meditating before sleep and I’m on my routine and everything.” 

Suzumeda-san blinks. “I see. You still taking those pills, Shouyou?” She asks, lips pressing together. 

-

Shouyou’s jump serve has a success rate of about 65%. Tsukishima claims he doesn’t understand how  _ Stupid Hinata _ managed to arrive at that number when he’s currently flunking out of pre-calculus- bah, whatever. He knows this number is right, and no matter what Ashido-san says sometimes answers to equations  _ do  _ come from the heart.

It’s not good enough. 

It’s nowhere near as powerful as Kageyama’s- not even in the same ballpark, and will never even glean the accuracy Yamaguchi has. 

Yamaguchi blows the whistle with a start, sending Shouyou’s head whipping from where he’s currently teaching a few first years the proper spiking form. 

They line up, and Shouyou gestures that he’s going to stay on a little while longer. He promises to clean up, and he catches Ukai sending Takeda a wary look. He grits his teeth. They’ve been on his case ever since he freaked out in school last year. 

Kageyama catches their eye, and he nods to let them know he’ll stay back. Ever responsible. 

Shouyou bounces the ball between his feet, catching it with ease. He takes a deep breath in, focusing his energy into his palm. 

Kageyama’s shoe squeaks. 

“I don’t need a fucking keeper,” Shouyou hisses. 

Kageyama doesn’t say anything. 

“I’m not even here,” he finally answers. 

Shouyou feels his eyebrow twitch in annoyance. 

Two years ago, he’d have looked at the sight and gloated. After all, who would have ever thought their roles would ever be reversed like this? Shouyou- irritable and grumpy, snappy and rude. Kageyama- the oh-so-charitable vice-captain. 

Shouyou bounces it once more. 

Once more. 

“I started a new med rotation.” He announces. 

He can hear Kageyama nod. “I see.” He says quietly. 

They’ve spent entirely too much time together in the past years. Even without prompt, the two of them rub off on each other, sticking like glue on paper. 

Shouyou finds himself rubbing his jaw in the same way he always watches Kageyama do, and in that line, he’d see Kageyama run his hands through his hair frantically, imitating the manic motions Shouyou would do. 

“It’s because I’ve been. Having these dreams.” 

Shouyou swallows. 

_ ‘It’s not dumb,’ _ he reminds himself. He knows everyone’s noticed a bit of a mood change in him- hell, he looks in the mirror, and the deep-set bags under his eyes that will never leave gape at him. He’s just giving an explanation. Shouyou will be back soon- palatable and bouncing as they like him. 

“I see,” Kageyama repeats, stepping closer. Shouyou’s eyes are still closed, but he feels the heat radiate off the other in waves. 

“Would you like to talk about it?” Kageyama says stuffily. Had it been another time, another day, Shouyou would chuckle about how with every stride Kageyama made in their time, his social skills were still like that of a newborn. He’s awkward, still, even with him. 

The two of them, that have never been apart. Even when there was nothing more Shouyou wanted than to throw a rock in his face. Even when Kageyama did throw a blistering punch in his face. Even when his words scraped down Shouyou’s throat, leaving him spitting blood and poison like the rearing head of an Indian cobra. 

Next year, Shouyou will not even be in Japan.

“No,” Shouyou says decisively. “Let’s do receive practice.” 

Receiving will never be thoughtless for him. He’s the kind of guy that will never be able to do anything thoughtlessly. But the past two years, he’s been practicing this more than he’s slept or ate- and no exaggeration. You know he means it. We know he means it. 

Kageyama takes the ball from his hands, and just as he’s about to jerk away, he stills. Shouyou opens his eyes, looking up into Kageyama’s blue ones. 

Let it be known, hear it ring through the land- Kageyama’s eyes are the most beautiful thing about him. They are warm, easy, calming, grounding. 

Some people walk around Japan, eyes piercing and sharp- others look like him, hungry and filled with desire- most walk around, lazy and unassuming.

But Kageyama’s eyes are alight with a power that emanates from his every step. A confidence in even loneliness. 

Kageyama’s hands fold over his own, just like his eyes- easy, warm, grounding. Shouyou takes a deep breath in, glancing down to see how Kageyama’s cover his own just slightly, knuckles folding over. 

That moment feels like an eternity. 

“We are friends,” Kageyama says. “I’ll hate you if you don’t tell me when you’re not okay.” 

And just like that, the tension in the air is slashed. Shouyou smiles. 

It’s like being five again- before he knew Takashi shouldn’t have, wasn’t  _ supposed  _ to, to  _ hurt  _ him like that, to hurt mama like that- before he knew his  _ home  _ was a breeding ground for crime and anger and hatred and  _ violence-  _ before he became a young man that slept awake, and lived hunger itself. 

Simple. Easy. Everything always is, with Kageyama. 

“I’ll tell you some for every three serves you get off me,” He says toothily, smirking up at Kageyama- whose face is red. Poor guy needs sunscreen. 

“You’re on.”

-

In May, the flowers bloom with the promise of summer soon, on the horizon. Hot summer, with its unbearable heat and tank tops and the open pool. 

We are a flawed species, friend. Summer is coming- and all Kaneko Maeko wants to do is go ice skating in the cool, cool indoor rink with a certain boy in her class. 

Maeko is seventeen, a third-year at Karasuno High School, and art is the center of her life. She spends hours upon hours, retinas burning yet still focused on her canvas, and she brings to life the ideas clouding her brain. 

It’s not for nothing. She loves it, loves it so hard that she paints her love for it- and immediately throws it out, because  _ ew _ , that looked gross. Like,  _ blegh _ . Words are not her strong suit. 

Oh yeah. She’s also won a few competitions. Whoops, forgot.

Really, she’s only seeing out the rest of high school because her parents told her if she doesn’t at least have a diploma no art school will take her (a  _ lie _ , she already has an acceptance in Kyoto, and it’s only  _ May _ ), and to date cute boys and girls. Also, a lie, because that’s apparently a lot harder than thought. 

So yeah. Maeko is a bit lost on the whole popularity scale. She varies from _ ‘We’re all gonna hate you’ _ to  _ ‘Let us worship you’ _ at least three times a week- so often she’s determined it’s probably based on the lunar scale- which she can’t blame them for, it’s the bastard Moon’s doing. 

And yeah, she’s a little eccentric. So her shoes have paint splatters on them- just look away if it bothers you, moron. The rest of her uniform is clean. And the only reason they call her eccentric is that she says what everyone else is thinking- because the only thing she values more than art is the truth. That’s what her name means after all.

Anyways. Back to it. Maeko is in her last year of The Wretched High School experience, and she’s kissed about two people on a drunken party’s whim. Soon enough, she’ll be long gone, hopefully in Tokyo, hanging out with other actually cool people that understand her and don’t turn their backs on her every other week because of some petty rumor that is a lie. 

But until then. She’s going to be stuck here. So she may as well make it the best it can be. And if that means she has to ask a cute boy to go ice skating with her, because his dumbass can’t get the hint, then so be it. She can wear the pants, that’s okay. 

Hinata Shouyou stands before her, his entire volleyball team very indiscreetly watching from behind their large window. An older man with bleached hair cheers him on. 

“Um,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. 

She holds out the card. “You’re attractive! Also cool! Separate things, but they go together as well,” she adds, leaning and winking heavily. Hinata’s neck flushes a light pink. It’s bright out here. 

“Anyways, my name is Maeko. You know me because I kept forcing you to work with me in English class. By the way, you didn’t finish your part of the slideshow.”

“Uh, sorry,”

“It’s okay!” She holds out the letter, like the girls on her mom’s soaps do. “Also, you should go out with me!” 

Shouyou’s eyes widen all the way, and she thinks she hears someone crying. “You sure your volleyball team is okay?” 

“They’re fine!” He says excitedly, the dazed look finally fading from his eyes. He jumps up. It’s funny- as in, she’s probably two centimeters taller than him. Not that it matters with the- what, six, seven feet up?  _ Insane-  _ he clears with that jump. I mean. It would matter because he hopefully wouldn’t jump on their dates. 

She’s getting ahead of herself.

“Sure!” He says, grabbing her hands. “You’re pretty cool, y’know, Maeko-chan? Uh- I have to finish practice,” he gestures back to the gym, where someone has taken to yelling in excitement, really, what a strange group, “but just tell me when and where and we can go! I can clear most days off!” 

“Perfect!” She gushes. People really should be truthful more often. Look at how nicely this went. “How about today! I want to go ice-skating.” 

“Uwahhh, are you a good skater?! You’re going to have to show me,” Shouyou says, elbowing her playfully. “I’ve only skated like, once before,” 

“Hinata-san!” Someone cries from inside. 

Maeko blinks and laughs. “Maybe you should get back in there. They sound like they’re about to commit a crime- you should come to pick me up at my place. It’s right by the Shopping Center- I’ll be waiting outside,” and, in a complete act of a little buffoonery and mostly confidence, she leans down the slightest and presses a soft kiss to his cheek. 

Hinata- no, she should say Shouyou now, blinks at her, stunned, lips parted, before laughing. “You’re great, Maeko-chan.” He takes her hands again. “I’m really excited for tonight,” he says, voice lowering slightly- then he runs off, to his club, and she watches their green-haired manager try to wrestle the first-year back into the room.

Perhaps this will be fun.

-

Routine is important in a recovering patient’s life. 

It’s something Suzumeda-san drills in Shouyou’s head, driving it home right during their last session. She covers his hand with her own and looks him right in the eye as she speaks. He always respected that about her- even when he sat sniffling and red-faced, curling up into himself as he shakes, she always respected him and treated him as an equal. 

Shouyou never even had to try to be recognized by her. He’s always had to with everyone else. He’s always had something to prove. 

But yes- routine. Balance. Apparently, it’s important to a developing child’s social and world view. And that’s probably what messes with his brain a lot and brings forth dreams from the ninth circle of Dante’s hell. 

He wakes with the sun, and takes out his simple lightweight mat, out onto the small veranda. 

It took practice- so much pain and work- but he trains his mind to focus on just one thing. Himself. His body, an asset. What do you feel today? How will we work together today? 

That’s an important thing he learned. It’s not him, controlling his body. It’s all of him working together, and if he is a leader, he must treat every part, from his brain to even the last strand of fucking pubic hair, with respect. 

He makes breakfast for himself and his family. This is something he added on his own- after he had already made bounds with meditating. He lives for the quiet of the morning when he can give just one thing to his mom. 

He showers, quick- because a long shower often has him spiraling- and jumps off onto his bike with a cheerful goodbye, as mama gets Natsu ready for their neighbor to drive her and their son to the elementary school. 

He gets to practice- still first, racing neck-and-neck with Kageyama. Don’t tell him, but he considers this one of the most important parts of his day. The days confined at home probably could have killed him. 

Nonetheless, boundless energy once again fills him at the sight of court- wide and waiting, just for him to step on. It’s rejuvenating. Probably medicinal, or something corny like that. 

Then he goes through whatever school he’s supposed to do. The only reason he’s not skipping out every class is that they’d bar him from volleyball- he hasn’t had a shot at being good in school since fourth grade. There’s not really a point in him trying when he knows there’s only one path he can take now- a South-American beach, the smell of salty ocean air. 

He spends math on the roof with some other slackers. He goes to English so he can make faces at Yamaguchi, across the hall. He goes to science because by then, Kageyama will find him trying to sneak into Takeda-san’s class since he doesn’t have a third period and berate him about the image he gives the club. As if Kageyama is any better- Shouyou is  _ positive  _ he saw a head of dark hair dip out of the door to the roof at one point. He goes to art class because Yachi is in there, and together they throw wet clay at Tsukishima- who can’t get rid of them, no matter how much he moves around the class. 

Eventually, lunch will come, and he will seek out Maeko to  _ very  _ romantically and not at all weirdly feed each other under the cherry blossoms on the front field. He’ll _ ‘oooh’ _ and  _ ‘aaaaah’  _ at her sketchbooks, and rant about the old man that came into Suzuki-san’s right at closing. 

Lunch is important as well. Lunch is a strict diet he’s been on since last year- just enough carbs, a little more protein, some fiber, and definitely more sugar than average- fatty acids building up to help curb his metabolism and meds. He lost a lot of weight last year. It was bad- it was  _ bad _ , bad. 

It’s funny, almost, how he says routine is important when he floats through the school day. But the timetable helps him, even if what he does in between is insignificant. He’s never been late to somewhere he intends to be. 

He’ll float by the rest of classes, and finally, afternoon practice will arrive- when Maeko will bid him a boisterous goodbye, and he can bounce into the court, jumping onto Abe- a tall second year- demanding him to try and block him. 

If that first step onto the gym floor in the morning is rejuvenation, walking back on there in the afternoon is like a resurgence. He catches himself (every day!) goofily thinking,  _ ‘I’m back!’,  _ giggling himself silly.

And leaving- it’s silly to say, sore and aching- it hurts. But he’s better now, and he knows when to stop- so he’ll pack up, pretend to fight Kageyama and walk off laughing, and head straight off to a mostly relaxing shift at Suzuki-san’s. Maeko will come in about halfway through, and he hangs off her every dramatic word, and Yui-san will come down and tell them to shut up and go back to work. She means it all lightheartedly. 

He’ll bike home, or he’ll take Maeko’s hand, and they’ll allow themselves a walk around- stopping Ukai’s store to heckle the old man, or spinning on the kid’s merry-go-around, hogging the swings to themselves. He’s never not laughing. 

But he’ll be home by 9, and that’s the most important thing. Dinner is the same rule, and he kisses mama and Natsu goodnight early. He does the barest amounts of homework, but he needs to be in bed by 11, or he’ll probably freak out- and that’s not an exaggeration. The few days he stays out include extensive mental preparation. 

And then he rises. And he does it again.

-

“Idiot. You’ve never taped your hands before?” Kageyama’s breath is hot on Shouyou’s face.

Shouyou winces slightly, as the white gauze scrapes the top of his irritated skin. “No,” he breathes. “Never had to.”

“Liar,” Kageyama says, no heat behind the words. He loops the gauze around Shouyou’s fingers, once, twice, fingers encircling Shouyou’s wrist, holding it in place. Kageyama’s hands are earthly warm. Shouyou’s face is also warm. Interesting. 

“I’m a spiker,” Shouyou insists. “I don’t hurt my hands all that often.”

Kageyama’s face softens. “I’ve never met someone that tries to downplay so much shit,” he says, chuckling as he turns over, working on Shouyou’s right hand. 

Shouyou’s lips quirk up. “Whatever. That’s what I have you for, right?” He says playfully, jostling Kageyama’s arm with his elbow. 

Kageyama looks up, catching Shouyou’s eyes with his own. He glances him over, and his mouth splits into a smile- one Shouyou can only have the pleasure of witnessing once a blue moon. It should be hung in a museum somewhere- no, Shouyou wants a picture of Kageyama Tobio’s smile capture once, and only once, to be hung in a room in his house one day so only he’d ever see it. 

“Yeah.” Kageyama huffs. And then, because they can never have nice things, he pinches Shouyou’s knee painfully. “These too. You should get knee pads.”

Shouyou flushes, pulling his legs away- skin prickling at the lack of warmth from Kageyama’s leg- since when had they been touching? 

“I can’t,” Shouyou replies, rolling his eyes. Hello. “I spent too much of this month’s paycheck already.” 

Kageyama wraps off the edge of Shouyou’s right hand with a flourish, and Shouyou’s not sure why he’s disappointed. “Already?” he says, vaguely disapproving.

“You better not give me any shit!” He says, pointing a finger in his face. “It was just Maeko-chan’s birthday, and we had a super special date.” 

And just like that, whatever moment Kageyama had been having is cut in an ugly half. His scowl returns, full-force, and his eyebrows set back down heavily. “Oh.” 

He grunts, standing up from the bench they’d been sitting on. “Isn’t your birthday soon?” He says, looking over his shoulder. 

Shouyou flexes his fingers under the tape, distracted. “Hmm? Oh yeah, the 21st.” He says offhandedly. 

15 days later, a shiny new pair of kneepads and an awkward Kageyama show up on his doorstep. Shouyou’s heart glows.

-

Perhaps it is a prophecy- this dream of his. That a man clothed in orange, head to toe, shall burn slowly in the loudest silence imaginable. Shouyou certainly feels as if that’s him sometimes. 

Yesterday, he woke at 2 am to hurl his guts out, just barely making it to the toilet. All because of some… some  _ fucking  _ dream. Suzumeda-san mentions trying out a journal, and Shouyou mentions throwing himself off a bridge. He immediately takes it back. He’s never been so frustrated. 

So yeah, as the bile rises up to his throat, wetting his vision and searing his skin, Shouyou thinks he is burning alive. Like a match set ablaze. 

He sits on the bathroom floor, forehead leaning against the cool porcelain of the toilet in an effort to cool him down the slightest. It won’t work, though, not against the raging fire dancing under his skin. 

There was a time, in first-year when someone told him he was like the sun. 

If Shouyou is the sun, he is the end of its life, right before the entire being manages to collapse on itself, exploding in a superflare and compressing into an all-encompassing black hole. A black hole that burns and burns and sucks up everything around it. 

Shouyou chuckles. Sucks. Yeah, he sure sucks a few things. 

He blinks wearily, turning his body to face the wall.

“Hello,” he says softly, at the man staring back at him. He blinks again- and he is gone. 

-

“Maeko,” he whispers into the edge of his speaker, “I miss you,  _ baby _ .” The words are foreign on his tongue, but it’s a new thing they’re trying out right now. 

It would be the scene in a love story, when the protagonists realize they can’t live without each other and end up running back home, into each other’s arms in the rain, never to part again. 

Except Shouyou is very much  _ okay _ , miles away at their third annual Tokyo Training Camp, and he’s camped out behind the large dumpsters outside, while Maeko shows him this cute dog she saw on her run. 

“ _ Aww _ ,” she coos. “Say it again.” 

He laughs. Talking to Maeko, and being with her, just makes him feel airy. It’s always so fun. 

“I miss you,” he says again, crowding his face up against the screen so she can look at the gorgeous sight right up his nose. “I miss you, I miss you, I-” 

“Hinata?” A voice calls out behind him. 

Shouyou whips around to- oh,  _ god _ \- see Lev, of all people to find him here- walking towards him with a Fukurodani second-year, their manager, and Inuoka. 

“I’ll call you later,” he hisses into his phone, hitting the red X in the corner entirely too late. 

“Oh? Oho? Ohoho?” Lev starts gleefully, walking towards him in long strides like the absolute monster he is. “Who was that, Hinata-kun?”

Inuoka giggles, trying to grab a hold of Hinata’s phone. “Who was that?” He cackles, in disgusting sync with Lev. “Who could that ever be?” 

Fukurodani’s manager- Yuuki, he thinks?- cackles behind a hand, whipping out her phone to film the commotion. “Oy, Hinata,” she calls. “You good with me putting this on Insta?” 

“What? No-” Lev’s crusty hand makes its way over Hinata’s face, and it’s all he can do to back away, phone still clutched in his unforgiving hand. 

“Too late,” she says, pulling the phone down. 

“Hey! What are you guys doing?” Ukai shouts, clearly suspicious, from the second story of the building. “No drug deals on training time.” He adds. Only on training time? They should talk about that later. 

“Nothing,” Inuoka purrs, charming as ever. “Just seeing what Hinata-kun is up to-” 

“Let the boy call his girlfriend in peace,” Ukai says flippantly. “Maybe then they wouldn’t be all up smoochin’ on the side of my damn store.  _ Wait-  _ Hinata! It was your turn to wash the towels- get up here-!” Ukai growls. 

Shouyou yelps. “Yes sir!” He mock-salutes. Perfect situation to get out of this mess. Shouyou stalks off, staunchly ignoring Yuuki and Lev’s catcalls behind him. Tomorrow is going to be hell.

He needs to find a new place to call Maeko from.

-

Shouyou doesn’t think he’s ever been in love. 

He loves things. He loves his mom, and his house, and biking and running and playing. He loves Natsu- the happiest day of his life will forever be the day she blinked up at him and babbled ‘Nii-chan’- and he loves his friends to the moon and back. 

He loves the grass under his feet, he loves the sun, he loves popsicles and summer, and he loves warm meat buns and winter. He loves the old woman down the street who always lets him kneel down to play with her puppy, and he loves her puppy. He’ll never run out of it, no matter how much he deals out in packets. 

He loves volleyball, with every breath in his lungs and every fiber in his being, so much so he’ll never ever ever ever ever let it go, not even when his legs no longer move. 

That’s a fundamental part of him, probably. How much he just completely  _ loves _ .

But. Being in  _ love _ . He hears it’s different. 

He supposes being in love is something like Tanaka and Kiyoko these days, just smitten with each other’s every move. Or maybe something along the lines of Ushijima and Tendou, all the way back in first year- able to understand each other with even the slightest of touches. 

He likes Maeko. He loves her, definitely. He wants to talk to her and hang out with her and kiss her and sneak his hand up her leg and down her chest and hear her laugh and snort in the totally  _ gross _ way she does. He wants her to love him back, that same way, in small amounts, in big gestures. 

But being in love. It must be something else. Because when time is up, time is up, and they part ways easily. It's always fun to be around her. It’s always nice. 

Being in love is probably along the way he feels when he's hanging out with Kageyama. Kageyama is a weird dude- sometimes they’ll just bark at each other, and fall over in snorts and cackles, up until they’re annoyed with the others happiness and they shove and pull at each other’s hair again. He doesn’t want to go when they are together. Not even when they spend every minute at each other’s throats. 

I mean. It’s whatever, anyways. It’s not like he’s in love with Kageyama anyways. Dude is gross. He has Maeko- with her soft, warm, hugs and loud, welcoming laugh. Everyone thinks they are the  _ cutest  _ couple- they’re totally a match made in heaven. And they have the best chemistry. If this was an American school they would dance and win prom king and queen and ‘rule the school’ like Zac Efron. He probably loves her- loves her when they lay in the sun next to each other, loves her when she’s always touching him somewhere, loves her when she comes to his volleyball practices and watches him smack down a ball with Kageyama-

Yeah.

-

Right?

-

A common misconception is the simplicity of childhood and the complication of growing up. We get taller, leaner, meaner, lose the innocence of youth in the back of someone’s car, in the bathroom of a school- and we grow up. It’s all so much harder. 

There’s an easy kind of joy with youth, being able to solve your problems with a clear, free mind. We grow up, and things like money and greed and image destroy us, cleanse us of that independence. 

Shouyou is nearing eighteen, and sometimes he dreams about nothingness. About fading away into a little speck in someone’s mind, if anyone were to ever remember him. 

His mother’s family name means sun, yet he feels like the ever-expanding black hole, cursed to suck everything into his life and never be able to spit it back out. In fact- maybe the black hole surrounds him, and that’s why he’s suffocating, and that’s why the pressure on his head is mind-numbing, crushing him into a compact block of Hinata Shouyou. 

Suzumeda-san would probably be very disappointed. It’s his own fault- he’s been off his routine, he spends too long with Maeko and even longer drowning in everything he wants to do and everything he never will. He stares down at the imprints of his nails, etched bright-red and burning into his arms. He doesn’t even know how they got there. 

Natsu goes crying to mama- he scared her, he’s scaring his little sister because he’s never going to get a  _ fucking  _ grip- and it’s like that first fresh step in Miyagi again but it hurts even more. Pity seeps from her, pity and regret and silent, steaming anger. He picks himself up but he doesn’t dust himself off. This is all too hard. 

Kageyama stares at his arms on Wednesday, haphazardly bandaged. 

“I thought you said the new ones were working.” He says.

Shouyou clicks his tongue. “They were. I don’t know. Maybe it’s just me. My stupid brain and all.” 

Kageyama tilts his head, furrowing his nose. “What? Don’t say that.” 

His bike clicks as he walks it down the hill. He has the day off from work today- he should probably be with Maeko, maybe. 

“That’s dumb to say. Literally you make no sense.” Kageyama mutters angrily, kicking the rocks as he walks like some type of upset toddler. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Shouyou replies, shaking his head. “I heard this all before- anyways, you wanna come over? I found this website that’s so good for watching the new-”

“No. Like you can’t say that because it’s not you.” Kageyama continues on angrily. “Because like. If it’s you then it’s not very… you know? Because like. Since it’s not you it’s like,” he looks back lamely. “You’re like  _ pssssh _ .”

Hinata giggles. “Kageyama,” he says. “I can’t believe you have a better Japanese grade than me,” 

“You know what I mean!” Kageyama shouts, stopping dead. 

“No, I really don’t. I didn’t understand whatever you just tried to say.” 

“Whatever.” Kageyama crosses his arms. “I’m saying don’t ever say that again.” He glares at him. “Or I’ll beat you up.” 

Shouyou rests the bike against his leg. His heart is beating embarrassingly fast right now. He can feel it behind his eyes. 

“You’re kind of a simple guy, Kageyama-kun.” He finally gets out. 

“ _ What _ the hell? You want to start something?”

-

This was probably the inevitable. 

Natsu opens the door with a loud huff. “Hi.” She says, glaring up menacingly- as menacing as a ten year old can be- holding the wood door open with her foot. 

“Hi Nacchan!” Yamaguchi says brightly, bending down to his knees. “How’s school-?” 

“Don’t ask me about school.” She bites, nose curling up. “It’s stupid and I hate it.” 

Yamaguchi laughs brightly, “You’re just like Hinata- ah, Shouyou, like that, huh?” 

Natsu rolls her eyes. “As if,” she sniffs. “At least I can do math. I just don’t wanna.” 

Tsukishima bellows. “Please,” he cackles.

Natsu steps aside, letting Yachi through the door. “Shou-chan is being dumb and annoying right now. He won’t even take me to the store right now and I really want chuupet.” She stomps her foot. 

“Yeah,” Yamaguchi mutters with an eyeroll. “He’s in rough shape, right?” 

They follow Yachi up the steps, Kageyama shuffling up the steps last. The ceilings are low and close to the ground- and Kageyama almost pisses himself laughing when Tsukishima bangs his head against the doorway, only for him to follow in the same exact motion. 

They enter Shouyou’s room with the curtains closed, effectively leaving the room in utter darkness. Yachi kicks aside some dirty socks with a disgusted face. 

“Yo. Hinata.” Tsukishima says. He nudges him with a frog figurine sitting on the bedside table beside him. “Get up.” 

Shouyou groans. “Huh-” he blinks open, wearily, and startles, launching back into the wall with his arms up. “Intruders-! Oh.” 

Shouyou rubs an arm over his eyes. “What are you guys doing here.” He says testily. 

Yachi shakes open the curtains. “We’re here to get you!” She says brightly. “Just because there’s no practice doesn’t mean you can skip school, Shouyou.” She tuts. 

Shouyou groans again, and flops down on the bed face-first. “Go away,” he moans. 

Yamaguchi sits at the foot of his bed. “No!” He says cheerfully. 

“You can’t make me!” Shouyou whines into the pillow. 

Tsukishima looks at the dirty floor with a sneer. “C’mon, Hinata,” he says, “this is kind of pathetic.” 

“Your  _ mom  _ is kind of pathetic.”

Tsukishima rolls his eyes. “Anyways. If you’re going to have a therapy appointment with Tadashi or something, let me know so I can go first. I just came to bring Takeda-san’s homework.” 

Shouyou points to the overflowing trash can. “You can put it there.” 

Yamaguchi pats the back of Shouyou’s thigh gently. “I get it, breakups are super hard, Hinata. Like, remember when Yachi broke up with Himari and we all had to go stop her from moving to Indonesia.” 

“Can we  _ not  _ talk about that,” Yachi mutters.

“-but, even though Maeko probably crushed your heart into pieces because you both spent all your time together, and then she probably stomped on those pieces because she was  _ kind  _ of mean in a funny way, you have to, um. Keep going!” Yamaguchi finishes brightly. 

Kageyama picks up a box of juice next to Shouyou’s hamper. “Is this expired?” 

Yachi grinds her hands together. “That was kind of a terrible speech,” she whispers to Yamaguchi. 

“Oh  _ no _ , you think so?” He whispers back. 

Shouyou kicks his feet back and forth on the bed. “You guys are all so annoying and I hate you!” He proclaims loudly. 

Tsukishima looks bored. “Okay,” He takes a large stick- presumably something that fell off the deteriorating old pieces of wood Shouyou calls a desk- poking his stomach with it. “Am I annoying? Is this annoying?” He taunts. 

Yachi claps her hands. “Shouyou!” She announces. “You need to get up right now because you look pretty lame.” Yamaguchi nods sadly. 

“ _ So _ lame.” 

Shouyou pounds his hands into the pillow. “No!” He says, stubbornly. 

Yachi tries to yank the blanket off him- keyword,  _ tries _ . Apparently, in two years he’s gained some weight  _ and _ some muscle. She puffs, feet sliding as she wrestles the cloth from under his body. “Shouyou,” she tuts. “What the  _ hell _ ,” 

Kageyama’s straw in the expired juice box makes an empty noise, and he tosses it to the trash can on the other side of the room, where it bounces off onto the floor miserably. “They’re done cleaning the gym today,” he mentions, aloud. 

Shouyou blinks an eye open suspiciously. “Really?” 

Kageyama nods. 

-

Yamaguchi sighs, keys clicking together as he opens the large gym doors. “I can’t believe you stayed in your room for four days, and this is  _ all _ it took to drag you out.” 

Shouyou jumps in pajama pants and a loose T-shirt, testing the stretch of the plaid pants. “You  _ can’t _ believe it? If I were me and I had to get me out of bed, this is what  _ Me _ would do.” 

Yachi nods, thoughtful. “So true, Shou.” 

Tsukishima throws his hands up in the air. “That’s not even a  _ sentence _ ,” 

Kageyama waltzes through the doors, pulling out the cart of balls easily. “You need to work on your overhand receives,” he says to Shouyou, rubbing his stomach with a face. “That juicebox  _ was _ expired.” He mutters. 

Yamaguchi places a hand over his face. “I told you,” 

“Wait,” Tsukishima says, hands in his pockets. “Before that,” he fixes Shouyou with a squint. “Tell us everything.” 

Shouyou groans, rubbing at the waistband of his pajamas. “You dragged me out of bed to relive my traumatic, depressing,  _ evil _ ,  _ sad- _ “ 

“Yes.” 

Kageyama spins a ball between his hands. “Not me. I don’t care.” 

Yachi snorts behind her hand. “ _ Liar- _ “ 

“Shut up!” He hisses back. 

Shouyou sits down with a groan. He motions for Kageyama to toss a ball over, catching with a hand easily. 

“It’s beneficial to talk your feelings out,” Yamaguchi says, as if speaking straight out of an instruction manual. 

Yachi kneels, nodding. “Very true Yama.” she adds. “Feelings are like, a lot. Like  _ bwaaah _ .” 

Shouyou tosses the ball up high. “So much  _ bwaaah _ .” 

Tsukishima taps his wrist. “I don’t have all day here.” 

Shouyou sticks his tongue out with a pout. “I don’t even know what you want to hear! She dumped me right after we got back from the Inter-high nationals.” he catches the ball again, holding it against his chest, and throws his arm back dramatically. “And now,” he announces. “I shall never love again.” 

“I know  _ that _ ,” Tsukishima rolls his eyes. “I heard from Kunimi.” 

“What the hell! How did Kunimi know?”

“Kunimi knows everything.” Tsukishima says offhandedly. “But like, why did she dump you.” 

“Listen, Tsukki-“ 

“-don’t call me that-“

“-I know you liked Maeko because you’re both kind of demons, and weirdly hated by half the school, but I really would appreciate it if you took  _ my _ side here,”

“Omg,” Yamaguchi says, just like that. Abbreviation and all. “Tsukki is trying to find out so he can see if he has to threaten anyone.” 

“ _ Huh _ ?” 

Yachi puts her head in her hands. “We want to know so we can know whether or not to steal all her juul pods,” Yachi says. 

Shouyou blinks. 

And immediately starts bawling. 

“No,” Tsukishima looks supremely freaked out. “Um, don’t cry? What the fuck,” he looks helplessly at Yamaguchi. 

_ ‘I got this,’  _ Yamaguchi nods. He pats Shouyou on the back. “We are your friends. So even if Maeko broke up with you for good reasons we are going to wreck her shit,” he explains. 

This only seems to make Shouyou’s weird sniffly sobs desper. 

“I don’t know.” Yamaguchi announces. 

“It-It’s okay,” Shouyou says between gasps. “You don’t- you don’t have to steal- steal anything,” he cries. “It was kind of complicated,” he settles, wiping away tears with the bottom of his oversized T-shirt. “Honestly, I think she’s probably as sad as I am,” he says, sniffing snot back up his nose. 

“I feel like I should go,” Tsukishima grits. “I am incredibly uncomfortable.” 

“No!” Shouyou says, rubbing his face. “You guys are right. I can’t sit in my room all day.” 

Kageyama’s eyes shine. “Yes.” He says, somewhat proud. He stands up, rubbing his stomach again. “Let’s play.” 

-

_ “Why?” Shouyou croaks, staring ahead at Maeko with a broken promise in his eyes.  _

_ “Why?” Maeko turns to him- and oh no, no, she’s crying too, and she shouldn’t be, Maeko should never cry- she’s beautiful and always so strong and happy and that’s not for her. “Why?! How could you-” her hand comes up over her mouth. “How could you ask that? Don’t you know?”  _

_ “Don’t I- I don’t even know what I did,” Shouyou surges forward, grabbing Maeko’s hands, covering her gloved hands with his own. Blue- the color of Tobio’s eyes. “Aren’t you happy?”  _

_ “I was.” Maeko says, glaring. “I was, but you aren’t and you’re never going to be, right?”  _

_ “What?” Shouyou’s throat is dry.  _

_ Maeko sighs heavily, and she plops down into the snow with finality. “You really don’t know?” She says, sounding defeated.  _

_ “I-”  _

_ “I think I love you.” Maeko says carefully. “But I know,” she bites her lip. “I know you don’t.”  _

_ Shouyou stares at her, mouth unmoving.  _

_ “You have your person,” Maeko says spitefully. “It’s okay. I hope you guys- I don’t actually. But.” And she stands up, scarf flying behind her. “I just wanted to say goodbye. I’ll always love you.”  _

-

He doesn’t mean to show up here. 

Nonetheless, Shouyou’s eyes glitter as he looks down upon a single, unmarked grave, right in the middle of Miyagi Public Cemetery. Mama had insisted they’d be rid of him- and they refused to bury him under the family name- but she had still footed the medical bill, and he’d helped her, running delivery on his bike in the summer. Maybe you’re never actually rid of the people in your life like that. 

He’s never been to visit. Some random person had put the marker in. Takashi’s ashes are probably in the ground right now- or maybe mama, sick with the joke of sentimentality, had taken that weekend to sprinkle them back in Nobayu. 

It makes sense they left his grave unmarked. He’s never done anything good for us. He’s never done anything good for us. 

Shouyou repeats it like a prayer. 

“Hinata?” A surprised voice says behind him. Shouyou spins around- fixed with black hair and blue eyes. His heart sings a little. 

“Kageyama?” He says, rubbing the side of his arm. “What the heck, stalking me now?” He jokes, stepping into his personal bubble. Kageyama is carrying a basket with him, and a cloth tucked under one arm.

Kageyama’s lip curls, and he looks away, eyes shining with something unseen. “Dumbass. I’m here visiting my grandpa.” He nods to the left. 

“Oh. I’m sorry.” Shouyou says, awkward. 

“It’s okay.” Kageyama’s eyes look stormy. “Who’s this?” 

Shouyou looks behind him, at the unmarked stone. He looks back at Kageyama. Dr. Suzumeda told him the first step in recovery is trust. 

“That’s my dad.” Shouyou offers no elaboration. Kageyama’s eyes widen a fraction. 

“Oh.” He says. “Uh. Wanna meet my grandpa?” 

And that’s how, on a Wednesday afternoon, Shouyou finds himself sitting beside Kageyama Tobio on a plaid cloth in a graveyard. His hand itches- he kind of wants Kageyama’s in it. 

“Hi, Kageyama-san,” he says, bowing towards the marker. “I’m Hinata Shouyou.” 

Kageyama- or Tobio, now, with another so close- hands him a plastic bottle of water. “Grandpa played volleyball too,” he says conversationally, “he was actually the Kitagawa-Daiichi coach until he retired.” 

Tobio smiles, dry and wistful. “I can’t believe this is going to be our last nationals.” He stares off, and then blinks himself back, looking at the grave once again.

He hands Hinata a sandwich, digging into his own. “He kind of raised me because mom and dad were always on business trips. Miwa too.” 

Shouyou nods, eyebrows raising- for all he knows about Kageyama, the things that get him annoyed, the exact way he shuts down when he’s really in the zone- he’s never heard him talk about much outside volleyball and the two of them. 

“Yeah. I had to talk to the counselor at the school for a bit, but they got over my moods and I had to just deal with it.”

Shouyou tilts his head, sympathetic frown forming over his lips. “Kage-  _ Tobio _ ,” he says, catching the way Tobio’s face colors. “You know that’s not right, yeah?” 

Tobio’s lips purse. “Of course.” He says. “ _ Whatever _ , though,” he continues. “I mean- it was a long time ago, and I think I learned to deal with it. Or something.” 

Shouyou feels a soft smile paint his face. “Yeah. I think you did.” He pokes his stomach playfully, and Kageyama grabs his arm with a twist. “That’s why you were crazyama in middle school, huh?” He laughs. 

“Shut up,” Tobio says, words missing the heat that should be behind them. 

Shouyou laughs again, turning back towards the grave. “Kageyama-san,” he says very seriously. “Didja know your grandson is,” he pauses, for drama. “Dumb as fuck?” 

“Shut  _ up _ !”

Tobio drops him to the ground with a shove, and Shouyou lays there, taking another bite of his sandwich. His hand comes to rest above his eyebrows- and his shirt rides up. Kageyama is looking, probably. 

They sit in comfortable silence like that, which is funny- two of the loudest, most boisterous people on the team, only calm when they are with each other. It must be some kind of beautiful irony. 

“Can I ask you something?” Tobio says, breaking the loose ties of peace in Shouyou’s mind. He should be more annoyed- but he can’t be. It’s Tobio, after all. 

“Shoot,” he says carefully, around the last piece of white bread. 

“Why,” Tobio hesitates. That’s weird. It’s unlike him- Tobio is always one to do everything so surely and loudly. He never says words he doesn’t mean. “Why is your father’s grave unmarked?”

Ah, yes. There it is. 

He ought to have expected it sooner, really- Tobio has known about his therapy appointments and his med rotations since before anyone else. It’s a miracle Takeda-san and Ukai haven’t taken him aside since that one day last year, either, for a completely awkward but probably necessary conversation. 

Everyone on the team had been wonderful. Nothing but amazing- something that leaves a salty taste in his mouth. He’d like a bit more resistance- but they get along without him, and he gets along without them. Somewhat. 

But Tobio had never asked the question that lives on Shouyou’s mind, still, to this day. 

Why?

“He was a fuck- he sucked,” Shouyou bites, looking anywhere but Kageyama. The words leave his tongue quickly, falling out like heavy rain. “He left us to rot back before we moved here. I- I don’t know.” 

Shouyou sits up, the sudden movement having Tobio moving back quickly. “I- I was never supposed to come see him here. He always, uh,” Shouyou taps the side of his head. “When I sleep. I always see him. Even when I’m awake, sometimes. That’s what all that.  _ Stuff _ . Is for.” 

Tobio stays silent, the only acknowledgement he’s even hearing any of this being the rustle as he nods his head.

Shouyou laughs, hollow. “Yeah. I shouldn’t even be here. I don’t care about him.” Shouyou snaps his head up. “No. I  _ hate  _ him. I do. I hate him so  _ much _ .” 

It’s everything he’s ever wanted to say- the  _ truth _ . Right? The words that haunt him when his own orange hair is too familiar in the mirror. So why does it leave him aching, like his stomach has been scooped out and his body is weightless? 

“It’s-” Shouyou sniffles, suddenly hyper aware of where he is, who he’s talking to. “It’s nothing,” he tries to laugh. “I shouldn’t-”

Tobio’s hand comes up to cup the side of Shouyou’s face, thumb gently wiping a tear that had yet to fall from his waterline. His hand is warm- it’s funny, Shouyou is the warm one- so warm, and it seems to suck all the cold from his pink cheek into Tobio’s palm. 

Tobio blinks, like he wasn’t even aware of his own movements. He starts to pull away, but Shouyou is fast, so fast, and his hand darts out to hold Tobio’s hand where it is, keeping it steady against his cheek. 

“Tobio,” he says again, as if testing the word for the first time. His voice is thick with unshed tears- he thinks if he doesn’t move closer, the dam will break once again. So he does, his knees bracketing Tobio’s legs.

Tobio looks down at him. He’s so close- his gloves really are the same color as Tobio’s eyes. Did they do that on purpose? He should find out- later though, not now, when his hand cups Tobio’s neck and his breath is hot on his face and smells like cucumber sandwiches.

Things were always simpler with him.

-

What makes you, little crow? Despite the plucking of the feathers from your wings, the current moving against you, pushing you into the wall and holding you back, keeping you from your dream. What keeps you keeping on? Why do you continue to flap your pathetic wings, beady eyes looking straight on?

Is it just an empty promise?

-

Yes. The promise of  _ more _ .

-

The two of them- lovers, friends, enemies, strangers- will take what time they can get. Tobio had known, secretly, that Shouyou would leave Japan- if not now, soon. This country was never big enough to contain what he wanted to be. And Tobio always knew he’d stay here, pursuing his own dreams in the way he knew he could succeed. 

They take third place overall at Spring Nationals. He still remembers the salty scream Sugawara-san, who had been watching from the sidelines- basically illegally, but you won’t tell,- had let loose when Shouyou managed a left handed spike after his dig. It’s a bitter loss, but a win, still. Fallen crows no more. 

Shouyou still dreams. Shouyou still sees flashes of his childhood, flipping before his eyes like a movie, at the smallest provocations. But he stays diligent, and he stays focused, and he has his friends to help. Maybe it’s childish to believe these things can do any damage to a neurological disorder. Or perhaps it’s just the truth. 

On the days before Shouyou leaves for Brazil, he sits on the damp concrete outside with Mama. She’s down half a pack a day now. It probably won’t last. 

“Shou-kun,” she says, a smile dancing on her features. Still so youthful, even with the years of the stress and cigarettes. “You’re really flying the nest soon, huh?” She says, looking up to the stars. 

He takes a seat beside her. Some things never change- and he folds into her side easily, even though he’s almost 5’7 now, and probably has about 40 pounds of muscle on her. 

“Just yesterday they pulled you out of me, kicking and screaming,” she says wistfully, pinching Shouyou’s nose as he wrinkles it at her description. 

“I told you, right?” She says, rubbing his soft hair and pressing a kiss to the crown of his head. “That I always knew you’d be a star,” she sighs, taking another hit off the cigarette in her hand, smoke blowing through the light breeze. “When your name is on billboards, make sure you remember your old mama, okay?” 

“Ma,” Shouyou whines, moving closer to her side. “Don’t be so weird.” 

“No. You can’t stop me,” she smiles, wrapping an arm around him. “I’m so proud of you, you know? So, so proud. No matter what.”

-

On the top of the world, Shouyou stands, head raised to the clouds, Brazil sun kissing his skin like the soft touch of a woman. 

There are few things you know as a child. And you could argue- even fewer you know as an adult. He knows he is in Brazil. He thinks he is alone, but he knows he isn’t. He thinks he still has a lot to work through- the images that flash through his head like they’re not his, but they  _ are-  _ He thinks there are the things like the determination that aches in his weary bones, after two, three shifts, trying to make enough to send home. He thinks there is now sand between his toes almost perpetually, and he knows the tan he’s got from the years here is sure to never leave, even if he moved to a world where the sun never shined. 

But we know what we see. 

And today, Shouyou sees a world glimmering with the tan sun, waiting for him. Because no matter it all, no matter what he’s done and what he will do- who he’s seen and who he never will, not again- he’s going to change it. He’s going to make it his own. He’s going to make it something more.

And they aren’t ready for him.

-

_ Slam it down. _

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fuck  
> fuuuuuck  
> im turning seventeen in like five minutes and before i get turnt as fuck for my birthday I wanted to post this. because it genuinely is like a piece of me at this point. i have. no regrets here. idk I feel like this story took forever and I'm proud of it no matter what.   
> (quick note becuase idk if anyone caught this- did you notice the words in italics at the start of every chapter? its a very vague description of jumping up to spike. LMAO)  
> i wanted this fic to fill in parts of Shouyou i never understood, and thus a brain baby was formed. im letting it go now. i hope you all enjoyed. please let me know if you did

**Author's Note:**

> hyperfixation go brrr
> 
> come harass me  
> tumblr: @tanaka-saeko  
> twt: @tanakaasaeko


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